I am always pausing

in front of windows

sunlit places of reflection

of unclear inevitable memory

and speaking to people

I thought I had forgotten

I wear my solitude like a summer dress

its faded blue folds sit patiently

on my skin like a question unasked

I want to stop souls on the street

hold their hands in my sweaty palms

and tell perfect stories

exchange our losses like river stones

the kind we used to rest on our chapped lips

in the still heat of childhood

I want to rest my fingers on the backs of strangers

the sighing of leaves

the opening of a cafe door

the dying flutter of a moth on the windowsill

the humming of a lonely child

these are the anthems I live by

I will tell you the poetry of necessary life

begins in the empty spaces.