I traced a stitch raised by your absence.

I concentrated on this panel of sky

and wound myself into a ribbon of silence.

I have sat at the brink drafting a lie.

I have held my breath, entered the rooms,

drawn down the blinds and opened my eyes.

I've stood still enough to find my own way home.

I died a little when I took tiny sips of Spring

and spared no thought for when it all had gone.

I know all I need to know. I breathe in

the shadow's scent when it is near

and commit it to my own silent skin.

I rest on the tilted fence to prepare

for rain, the rain that began elsewhere.