Vanishing Trick
Into thin air
his perfume flees in whorls
I cannot contain. His vague dampness
stiffens the sheets.
I hound the nooks
he scented. The pillow's
dented, the bedding flung
around an absent form. The cheat
retreat, the sucker
punch of an angel
face fading, fading,
gone.
© 1989 John Goss |