Separation
Slumbering suburbs, calm depths of summer.
I walk the sidewalk at the periphery
Of an elementary school, emptied for weeks
Of childrens’ laughter, fears and daydreams.
Contrapuntal silences between
Barking dogs and cars intermittently passing.
Time grinds to a halt, face to face with the future.
In another continent the person you still love
Is rooted to the sleep of another sleeping body.
Their dreams are as far away
From each other as you are. In this, nothing has changed.
The past is breathing loss through the ash trees,
And you are no longer in its hours,
In the snow, in the mornings, in the absence
Now occupied by another.
Plume: Issue #149 January 2024