Awakenings

Awakened

by the bellow of a drunk
as he relentlessly pleads,

Sheila. Come home
Please Sheila.

I can feel you
in shadowed walls
in empty basins,
and naked sheets
where your head used to dwell.

Your scent hovers
trapped in flannel shirts
old cologne bottles;
I see you in double vision
but when I blink, you’re gone.

I spot you in mirrors
where yesterday you shared
coveted smiles,
spoke witty non sequiturs
blanched in ivory light,
but the truth tells me
you were never there.

Some things you never get used to

I am afraid slumber provides
restless dreams
where I am haunted
by intangible caresses
kisses from hummingbird wings
gentle mist after
silver Spring showers

I remind myself
that now I can repair
my shattered heart
splintered by wooden crates
broken alarm clocks

But it’s you, always
and although I trick myself
into the belief that ultimately
I am better off
the heart shakes its head
embarrassed by my self-pity

Until then, I wait
like a cat on the prowl
when I can rest
dreamless
without injury