Missing

There is that something about you

that’s like an incredulous piece of some divine puzzle,

some little thing that falls soundlessly to the floor

disappearing under the sofa or chair

and in spite of itself has not been missed until now.

Your hands are grasping for that lost piece,

that reaching—-

a drawn out sigh

a cat stretching its paws.

You are lost somewhere between that sigh and all of time and heaven.

You are reaching outwards towards some unanswered question on your Prufrock place,

the empty and awaiting space

searching always for what there was that was missing.

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