Your Absence

It's a quiet
that squeezes into cracks
and holes in our conversation,
gooey, smothering. We nod
when your name comes up, explain
to others, shrug, smile a little. The gap
that follows eats us whole.

Energy powers motion. We keep busy
and talk often, press ourselves together
at night, forget.
They call it a defense mechanism
but we like to think of it as
staying sane.
You swim behind every man we encounter,
pieces of you lodged in their faces
like bits of light. We fight the urge to
shake them
touch their shoulders
and remind ourselves.