9. Absence - 杰

Absenceby Laura RomigThe baby snowbird who blinks in summer sun, unprepared for all that lightFlitting and twinklingAnd your eyelashes in the early morningWhen the sun streams in the glass And splinters through a thousand piecesAnd sleep is grasping at your anklesTugging soft, persistent.The roll of soft grass outside the cityScraggled weeds that grow thick, dotted with runaway wildflowersWay out, hills that bound away in divine leaps  And the roots of your hair rippling with surenessThe wild running growthOf a thing that moves in all directions.And the kissing corners of apartment towersThe wiry fire escapes where lovers leanStuccoed in their portraitsBaby blue and blushingAnd those same kissing corners of your mouthLittle raindrops pinning in a soft smileThe sun in all its radianceAnd heads that turn to watch.And the hush of winds at night,Bitter cold biting in the mountains andhot, breathy in the city.The empty breath when you go,the unanswered questionshe spends her whole life asking.Your absence wouldn’t be noticed.Your absence would rip the world in twoIn a way that would leave no joy,no love, no friendship, no blessings,no wind, no mountains, no breath,no sun, no kisses, no weeds,no flowers, no slopes, no rest,no absence,no.Nothing worth noticing.