Saturday, August 13, 2016


For a long time, I do not open 
his closet door. 
But today is different, today 
I do. 
Today as if it were just a closet, 
I turn the knob 
as if it were a small dark room 
for storage
not a passageway. 
Today I open it prepared 
to face his lumber shirt, 
his jeans, his brown leather boots.
Today I am not prepared to see him 
in a flash of light
that makes his hair glow
like a halo. 
How tall he seems, how straight,  
how unbent 
just like before, 
but silent, so silent
as never before, 
how he seems to float
on a sky above a sky.