She loved looking out the window

The one in the kitchen

Glancing over her shoulder,

I saw nothing but air

The grey kind, sitting against the glass

 

A creature of stillness,

She sat framed in that square of air

Meanwhile, I was spinning

Letting the window watch itself

Walking and talking and

Saving time—wasn’t I?

Or did time settle down beside her

Watching the world spin instead

 

If she had light eyes,

Maybe they’d glow

With outside reflections

Revealing all I could not see

But her eyes were dark

And far deeper than mirrors

 

She gave no translation

Of life beyond the glass

Keeping everyone’s secrets,

Like the birds

Like the angles

Flying above us

 

Bits and pieces of hair, escaping their hold

Floated down against to her neck

And she’d reach up, absently

Twisting her fingers around and around

It was a bad habit, she said

That bent-elbow silhouette

 

I knew I loved her in the way I missed her

It wasn’t in the way people miss people

It was how they look

For what they’re missing

In everything they see

 

One summer evening,

I glanced up

And she was glowing

Honey dripped from her skin

Tilting her golden head,

She caught me staring

“What?” she asked

“Nothing,” I replied

 

On my silent days,

I missed her louder

 

 

 

 

(fiction)