Conversation

The first thing, I noticed

your shampoo missing.
I noticed
your toothbrush
missing and then
your razor and knew, finally,
I was to get my own.
You were gone, had left. This
evening I ate with no comment
the salmon
you usually cooked.
One wineglass on the drying rack.
I pictured you walking
the dog but the dog was here.
"We miss you," I said. "Oh,
really?" you said.

Dissappointment Pounces

Disappointment pounces and when it does I am left speechless. For seven days I have not spoken about it. This morning, I wrote about it and used only two ink colors and six layers. The two is all about not wanting to get up to get the jar of more colors, and the six is all about taking that many layers to say what I did. Did writing in layers banish the disappointment? Not enough, so I scanned the entire journal page, cut it up, moved it, pasted it and turned the colors inside out. Writing and doing this art will make it easier to talk with the significant one in my life. I am half dazed and half grateful for this emotion of stammering surprise--tears mixing with confusion. I recognize feeling sad for a good reason. Love grows me like nothing else can.