I don't see her(mod edit)

[brynmawr1]

I don’t see her
but she is everywhere;
      in the morning
           cupboard doors agape;
in the sink a sodden, half-eaten creation of a nocturnal alchemist;
in the history tests and text 
      books oozing from her bloated pack
            that festers in the entry,
discarded clothes flaked 
like itchy reptilian skin                                                                               
      leading away;
in forgotten elementary lessons etched
into the ebony of the dining room table.
The blue Subaru’s gas gauge at empty,
       its rims excoriated against curbs;
in the detritus of a deciduous forest
       shed onto her bedroom floor;
in the quiet of the climbing moon
searched by anxious ears
for the late crunch of tires or creak
       of a darkened stair;
in her mother’s eyes
       and the breeze
as she blows through.
 
Should I see her
before she goes,
could I say goodbye?  Risk
the feel of smooth cheek against stubble,
hear the quiet words in my ear,
her arms tightening around.
Should I hold her
I would have to let her go.

I don’t see her

but she is here everywhere;

            in the morning

                        cupboard doors agape;

            in the sink a sodden, half-eaten creation of a nocturnal alchemist

with an appetite;

            in the history tests and text 

books oozing from her bloated pack

            that festers in the entry;

discarded clothes

flaked like itchy reptilian skin                                                                               

            leading away;

in forgotten elementary lessons etched deep

into the ebony of the dining room table.

The blue Subaru’s gas gauge at empty,

                        its rims excoriated against curbs,

lessons learned;

in the detritus of a deciduous forest

                        shed from limbs on her bedroom floor;

in the quiet of the climbing moon searched by anxious ears

for the late crunch of tires or creak

            of a darkened stair;

in her mother’s eyes

            and the breeze

as she blows through.

 

Should I see her

before she goes,

I could not say goodbye; risk

the feel of her smooth cheek against stubble,

hear her soft words in my ear,

arms tightening around.

Should I hold her
I would have to let her go.