I miss you, as if you were my missing head.
I miss the broken stone of your disapprobation.
I miss your cool approval when I am not foolish.
Wired fast-talking air taps the keys, town to town.
We’ve never been by ourselves alone in a house,
making world’s comfort and mischief and sorrow.
I miss you, as if you were my missing head.
I miss the horse aloft on wings and wires of faith
and mostly I miss myself the target of your care.
Lacking your voice, the air’s left just with these
grey hallelujahs: I force them to last whole nights.
But the error in the air’s not permanent, I know.
I won’t worry the watchman—Go lie in the lamp,
he’ll say, all’s well with the night. Soon we’ll hang
in the dark veils that drape the universe, alas.
And I miss you, as if you were my missing head.
I miss the horse aloft on wings and wires of faith.
The error in the air’s not permanent, I know.
I hope you endure. I hope everything forwards.