The loss of a spouse, it’s, never easy, until you finally realize, that s/he is still, with you, wherever you are, translated…
From the Funeral, I’d, Returned to the Apartment
I’d, Crawled onto the Floors, Cried Aloud
Searched for My Wife’s Hair Everywhere
The Two Months, from the Drainage Pipes, the Vacuum’s
Underneath the Fridge, Inside the Closets
And the Few on Her Clothes
Then, a Few Japanese Women Came to Visit
Then I’d, Stopped, Because I could, No Longer Tell Which Were, Hers Anymore
A year Past, as I was, Changing the Pot for Michiko’s Avocados, I’d Found
A Long, Dark Strand of Hair, Entangled, into the Potting Soil
And that, is how you’d, come to the realization, that your deceased wife’s presence, is still, all over this house you two had, shared, even if she’s gone, everything about her, still stays right there!