April 13, 2012

Periphery

















Do departed lovers
finally see us,
making love
to someone new?
Or are they so distant
we've become invisible,
just a smudge or two
on the horizon,
no longer really in their sphere,
well beyond admonitions
to eat well, button up, take care?
I would like to know
because I see you,
moving through the blind spot
in my mirror,
unnerving me while I'm
slowly shaving, just to make sure
I know your reasons,
be aware at last
that you're still here.

4/11/12