Luis

The electricity on the air swells in suspension.

My limbs are emptied of any notion of ease I can conceive.

The step down from my porch has become the edge of a cliff

And stillness turns to face me.

The ominous curiosity of a half open door

Shudders through me like the recall of a powerful dream

Out towards early morning, quiet as the face of the moon

Where a sweeping white glow challenges all that is green.

Everything I feel is winter.

I unfold to its spirit; transient and looming

As ache of the divine to move upon desperate men.

Fruits of the restless have no taste in which to revel

Where the white noise of loss rings.

I observe my feet take turns tapping and tracing along the doorsill.

The world is before and beyond, but this threshold stands time still.

I feel new realities stirring into place as I shift my weight back and forth,

Waiting for something to make sense.

Gone in a sentence and never to meet him

beyond what little I had bothered to glean.

His absence fills the landscape

of havoc and wilderness ahead.