Because it is Thursday,
I miss you, which is to say
because I am alive, I miss you.
I miss you rolling in the grass,
your laughter rising like sunlight.
I miss your enormous shoes
piled beside the front door.
I miss how you wanted
and wanted and wanted.
I miss the knives of your words
when you were unhappy
and the cloud of your dissatisfaction,
the blushing dusk of your joy.
Tonight I crawl inside the missing
and sprawl there
like a woman washed up on shore,
spent, shocked, traumatized
and grateful, astonished
to still be alive.