Gone (Revision)

[Todd]

She leaves home so often
you stop noticing—until the day, 
she doesn’t come back.
You pull back the curtain
and light retreats to shadow,
as you peer through the tunnel
between streetlights, listening
to the hungry night, only to turn back
to your husband who pushes
food around his plate until
everything grows cold.
The hours drag the rivers,

waiting for a call, or a note,
like in the movies, but there’s no bargaining
except with God. She’s vanished
in some perverse magic trick,
into a disappearing box, 
out of your life. There are no words to speak,
or incantation to perform. The magician 
has had a heart attack.

Revision

She leaves home so often
you stop noticing—until the day, 
she doesn’t come back.
You pull back the curtain,
and light retreats to shadow,
as you peer through the tunnel
between streetlights, listening
to the hungry night, only to turn back
to your husband who pushes
food around his plate until
everything grows cold.

The hours drag the rivers,

waiting for a call, or a note,
like in the movies, but there’s no bargaining
except with God. She’s vanished
in some perverse magic trick,
into a disappearing box, 
out of your life. There are no words to speak,
or incantation to perform. The magician 
has had a heart attack.


Original

She leaves home so often;
you stop noticing. Until the day, 
she doesn’t come back.
Light retreats to shadow,
You pull back the curtain
to peer down the tunnel
between streetlights, listen
to the hungry night, then turn back
to your husband over dinner and push
food around your plate. 
The hours drag the rivers,
waiting for a call, or a note,
like in the movies, but there’s no bargaining
except with God. She’s vanished
in a perverse magic trick,
into a disappearing box, 
out of your life,
and the magician 
has had a heart attack.
No words exist
to make her reappear.