Poem 20160306

every loss
is a taking away
a chunk of you or me
lost to time
or circumstance
or maybe malice

and you feel it, a vacuum
i suppose
in that emptiness
in your stomach
in the surprise asphyxia
of certain moments
in the way your eyes try
to see a missing item

–can you spy the difference
in these two images–

but if a loss is only
a cutting out
a phantom limb aching
below someone else’s knee
why does it weigh
so damned much