Bereave

see rob, para 3.

It happened before. This time

we found the door ajar, window

open, a ghost of curtains

blowing in and air still moving

as if someone had gone from the room.

We felt a new absence, noticed

a blank where the bronze whippet stood,

silver candlesticks not there

and in the bedroom, open drawers

flowering with silk scarfs,

the velvet box missing -rings,

brooch, the string of pearls

you gave me after her birth.

We look at each other and say nothing.

We would have passed them on

and much else. What might have been

is taken away and we are left

knowing absence will travel with us-

gaps, small hollows, a hand

held out, no one to take it-

and like risen bread, empty places

become texture and grain for all that follows.