Missing it. Poetry Journal April 12, 2024

  

I miss it

I would be lying if I said otherwise,

The stirring my chest,

The urge elsewhere

The same jolt at first

Seeing that face again

I need no reminder to remember

You can’t forget

the earthquake 0r the tornado

that ripped through your life

Especially knowing

That you brought it down

Upon yourself

Missing the interaction

If not the pain,

Clues dripping ahead of me

Or bread crumbs

By which I make sense

Of this confusing world

The vague shape

To which I am attracted,

Always too many steps

Ahead to ever catch,

Still, I keep trying.

 


email to Al Sullivan

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