Ways and Means

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Missing Series

Alcohol drowns my loneliness,
Calling for sleep.
Natalie keeps me company as I wallow in could bes.
Welcome fatigue to push the body,
Then embrace it.
All because I miss the feeling of melted butter as I once
Described holding my daughters’ hands.
We would wait for sleep to shut our eyes,
Comforted by the small space between us.
There is a promise of being together, and
A bigger space when the time comes.
Meanwhile, I stare at the calendar.
Long is indefinite and immeasurable.
I realize words are not enough.
Now is the best time to slam dance.

September 25, 2006

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