Voices

I sit alone in the house.
its silence is deafening
since I lost you.
Across from me sit your
open book and pipe
next to your chair.
I cannot seem to move them.
Almost as if you will
be coming home soon.
I have moved your things
from your study.
Sent your clothes
to the Goodwill.
Except for your old sweater
it sleeps next to my head.
I can still breathe your smell.
Reaching for you
in the night as always.
I phone our number
again and again.
Disturbing your new ghostly life.
I cling to the timbre of your voice
breathing in every nuance.
It is better than faded pictures
and left belongings.
For a brief moment
you are with me again.
You ask me to leave a message.
I whisper softly.
I miss you honey.