It Is a Quiet Loneliness

It is a quiet loneliness of the flesh
that may sometimes come sidling in,
behind the groceries,
unnoticed in the updating of lists,
and taking the farthest back seat
where the rearview mirror cannot see,
each time that we pick up or drop off.

At such times, it is a painful victory
to wake, to realize this unwanted guest,
and then I would wrap you to myself
like your warm blanket; I would hold
your precious head to mine, and fill
with its curves and hollows
my empty palms and fingers, telling you
and no one else that missing you
is more than loneliness can bear.

February 4 2010