What have you lost?
Did you notice the loss right away –
or did an awareness surface slowly?
Maybe the true shape of the loss is just now
coming into focus.
Where does this shape reside in your body?
Are the edges of the hollowed space
Damp? Slick? Ragged?
What kind of song fills the space – who hears it?
What would happen
if you wore the scent of this loss on your skin?
Has someone else gained from your loss?
When you speak of your loss
which herbs and spices fill your mouth?
Who would you feed them to
What has this loss made room for?
What did you steal?
Was it bigger than a breadbox, louder than a heartbeat, sharper than booze?
From whom did you steal it?
Where did they look for it when they discovered it was missing?
Did you put in on display, or did you swallow it whole?
What does it smell like in your home, on your breath?
When it sings, who hears it?
How do you keep it calm?
In what corner has it lodged itself?
What does it need from you now?
How has it separated you from the world?
Can you give it back? Can you give it away?
Can you let it go?
What is the first lie you ever told?
What was the weather like on the day it was born?
Where does it live in your body?
Is it alone?
What does it eat to survive?
How will it die?
Where will you bury the corpse?
What will you engrave in the stone?
How will you mourn?