Thursday, November 12, 2009

In Which I Try Not To Think

My kitchen table's empty for the first
Time since the last I had a dinner guest.
My living room has also seen of burst
Of ordering, and it's all for the best.
Much empty space is mine to contemplate:
"'Twill help you clear your mind," my Erin said.
Perhaps it's so, but nothing will abate
The sound of longed-for voices in my head --
Though even they keep saying not to think
But just to be. I think I've no idea
How that is done. I do not want to drink
Or take a pill; I seek no panacea.
I really want to find a little peace.
But grief keeps stalking like a hungry beast.

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