I Want Loss.
I Want loss to be something that does not spill.
Song to no music.
A shirt I can wash stains from, follow
Instructions on a label.
Button down and fold, spread eagle upon a bed you might sleep in.
Peaches I could surround with tissue paper for a journey and give away.
Something I could save for later like your ashes, Mother, and sprinkle under a living tree.
My dressing gown on its hook is confused by absence.
Susan Bazett