The physicists are right when they explain to us that separation
is an illusion, Marilyn Sewell.
There are mornings
when the atoms
of my body and my brain,
align themselves just so
and the one-ness is visible in me, in you,
in our daily bread.
But at night I want to cover the mirrors
again and mourn the separation. Cover
my hair in honor and modesty.
I can’t remember how to pray or what
to pray for with you gone. Your body
in one place—your spirit it another.
I try to write about the
archaeology of what you’ve left me…
the cameo that came from our mother
and went from to me, to you
and back to me—but I fail.
Because at this moment in space and time
I am a sub-atomic
particle floating free in the atmosphere
with nowhere to land and no way to bond.
