The chair is still warm,
although you vanished yesterday.
Even the sky is guilty:
why will the pillow not own up to its loss?
I rest in your memory
an empty space that's forgotten how to remember.
The floorboards creak,
not beneath footsteps,
but beneath prayers that never learned to find their way out of the throat.
A cup of tea goes cold,
even though I fill remembrance into it each morning.
And that chair
still retains your breath,
like air refusing to be released.
H.MAR [Dr. Haji Mohd Ali bin Haji Radin] (born 1968) Brunei
Source: European Poetry
although you vanished yesterday.
Even the sky is guilty:
why will the pillow not own up to its loss?
I rest in your memory
an empty space that's forgotten how to remember.
The floorboards creak,
not beneath footsteps,
but beneath prayers that never learned to find their way out of the throat.
A cup of tea goes cold,
even though I fill remembrance into it each morning.
And that chair
still retains your breath,
like air refusing to be released.
H.MAR [Dr. Haji Mohd Ali bin Haji Radin] (born 1968) Brunei
Source: European Poetry
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