It’s like this 
almost like this
maybe every morning 
washed and brushed 
sipping and listening 
looking and waiting 
for the sun 
and then you 
to turn and 
smile and reach
touch and kiss 
join me sipping 

In the corner 
a salt crystal 
glows its orange 
spreading like freshly 
spilled milk until 
the darkness swallows 
leaving behind dust 
through which I
go a ghost 
to the kitchen 
and the living 

Imagine the womb
or even underwater 
a world beyond 
to behold muffled 
like earmuffs keeping 
out the cold 
and hands too
stopping the noise 
this I think 
is what this 
is like quiet
but not silence 
for in quiet 
things are there 
much more so 
than in silence 
I’m reminded that 
things are there 

I hear wind
behind the curtains 
not against windows 
much farther away 
going much faster 
almost a din
maybe a moan
the haunting kind 
of hearts cold
leaving their comforts
as they sadly 
drive to work 

I found it
I finally did 
hidden deep inside 
the junk drawer 
voila the putty
pliable and strong 
able to withstand 
and to plug 
the holes in 
my punctured heart 
left by those 
who had promised 
off they went 
leaving me with 
only ten fingers 
and my putty
to fill gaps 
and replace seals