Forms of Absence

Each night I sculpt the air 

with my hands, think how your body

will soon fill the space amid 

them. This morning I went blind 

for a few minutes when I lost 

my glasses. I looked everywhere 

without fate’s friendship. For a flash,

I thought they were the spiderweb 

in the corner of the bookshelf, then I was 

trying to see through a plastic bowl

with remnants of blackberry juice. 

How you need what you are

looking for to find what you are

looking for. How I see many perfect 

bodies but they just turn to stone —

I cannot find any shape to take yours,

no colour resembles yours, and no one

remembers to forget quite like you. 

How country is another name for nowhere,

nowhere another name for where I find

my body, frozen like 

a child in a photograph. 

Ana has begun to spy

airplanes in the sky. 

She demands their purpose. 

Should I tell her they carry

people, or promises? That you will

arrive on a big white mechanical