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MISSING

A poem by
Jim Woessner
06/20/97

In the grey, waking, floating hours

When jasmine taps on the window
And silence drowns in incessant mind chatter. When
Nothing seems real or relevant outside myself except for
That solitary, invasive patch of fog light

Moving swiftly through my grieving and
Yearning for a woman long gone. When the

Walls of my flesh feel like a prison, and the
Only scent in my bed is that of my own hand over
My mouth, stifling the screams of unwritten poems. When
All that I ever wanted was driven away and
No one is left to whisper or laugh or pull at the

Blanket or share the warmth of her body,
A raw heart cries out from a well of
Crystallized memories, the day and night dreams that
Kill my spirit, one veil at a time.