for nine months

it lingers heavy in the air

the melancholy thickness

wrapped around

grey and green

that attaches itself to

these reminders

these markers of time.

.

on the outskirts

around the perimeter

and onto the threads

of your old blue sweater

i cling

.

i breathe

and remember

.

but

with my hand moving dirt

into little piles

adjacent to

you

.

i bury it

in this

shallow void

.

the things too hard to feel

but are felt anyway.

the face that is too hard to see

but is seared into my mind’s

eye

.

i look up

through the

cold and empty blur

and wonder

how it is

that i feel

you hold the world,

but not

me.