Says so right there on the milk carton
gone missing February last. Has anyone
seen the sweet face on the side panel?
Come on now, Missy the clues
were always there, the tiny separations,
from the first borning it’s always been
about leaving, really. Hasn’t it?
But no, no not like this irrevocable
severing of the cord of knowing
and mother always knows. Doesn’t she?
Until one day she doesn’t and she runs
over the edge into the dark wood
to beg the old gods for a please oh please
mercy they do not dare not fathom.
And the truth of it tears deeply, deeply
down the corridors of the ever lost.
She believed truly truly that she
could bind with fingertip kisses
and murmurings of love to the sky
and beyond, but oh there are places
where such love will not, cannot follow.
And don’t you get that no
hand can bar the door against
so great a breach of faith?
No words can fill an empty
space of lost dimension.
