The Missing


You never miss what you have until you don’t have it,
I’ve heard people say
I already miss it, and it’s right here
But I’m not sure it’s mine
Or anyone’s
Or if it’s an it at all
Can it be beautiful?
Fragile, misunderstanding, steady, perfect, all
I have missed, I miss, I will miss
Cube it, use it as a past participle, form a hypothesis out of it,
The missing can be manipulated into a formula
Of a bench warmed in the sun, an empty space of light
The gentle scratching of graphite on paper, writing “now,”
The same curve of pain when you think again of
Missing it
And still you can’t even place what it is that has been taken away
Because maybe you never had it
Maybe it was imagination that brushed the memory in with your hair last night,
Filled your cup with recollection of it
Reached towards the sky to find it
It, he
Even the red of a blackbird’s wing
I could miss any of it.

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This Poems Story

do you ever miss something, but you aren't sure what?