Release

—for Tom

Here, the silence in the wide hall complicates your nights.
You wake, search rooms for sounds of need.
Here, now, the absence of the shush of rubber wheels on tile,
the metal chair cradling the birdlike body, her ethereal eyes.
Here, the empty bed, its metal rail, its buttons, a bell.
perfume gone bronze in its bottle, her hairbrush, her paintings.
Here, the unspeakable lightness of grief.

©JP Reese, 2001
Currently at Used Furniture Review
http://usedfurniturereview.com/2011/02/21/two-poems-by-jp-reese/

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