(Loss)

[joondawg]

you face me.
i face you.

my hand cups the mug of coffee.
you pause to look at the rain.

there are always words to exchange and,
when those run out, there is always silence.

beneath the silence are the looks,
this careful understanding.

one could fashion a relationship out of loss
out of this emptiness that aches to burst

into a yell, a song,
love, heaven,
hell.

you say: the poppies will be blooming soon.
i close my eyes and see the bursts of crimson
all across the pavement.