Poem

My Sister of Dust and Mortars

I spend a day saying your name without

saying it. I arrange some keepsakes on a shelf.

Stone. Pressed flower. Photograph.

Photograph. Pressed flower. Stone.

Each a phoneme to build You-In-Absence.

As though I could hold something of you

in the pattern of my habits, by wearing

the shoes you favored, keeping

a dusty bottle of your favorite wine.

 

Comments

[unknown-o'-mouse]

I like it, though I did have to look up the word "phoneme" to make sure I knew what it meant.
Aside from having to look something up to make sure I knew what I was dealing with and in order to confirm that I had gotten it the way I thought I had, you succeeded in differentiating your writing from Scott Scheule's STD's with this poem. (It didn't even seem to come accompanied by another!)