I Can Tell When You’ve Visited
I tell her the world
got weird again
when I stumble awake
from a nap,
checking again
for a phone call
that never came.
I only saw half
of her face
in dream, the
rest resembled
a skull emoji.
The kids tell
me that means
something is funny.
Jim Morrison sings
from the television
and I discover
that the bathroom
night light has
burnt out. She
did that so I’d
know she was
here. I’m convinced.
It’s a perfect day
for remembering
and a six year
old poem has
finally been completed.
I worked until
my eyes bulged
and thought about
deleting the internet
again.
I hear her
telling me I
can’t remove
all traces,
but that I don’t
need to stare
into a cesspool
for too long.
“Thanks,” I
mutter as I
change the bulb.
I flip the welcome
mat over to not
offend her with
the dust, change
the water in the
copper cup,
and light a
candle so she
knows I’m
still listening.
Still looking
out for her
even though
she’s long gone.
Image by Peter H from Pixabay
Thistle Thoughts 
A beautiful and haunting poem!
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Thank you, Dominic. I definitely felt haunted while writing it.
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I see. It was a pleasure reading it!
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Deleting the internet has definite appeal.
Great writing, as always, Jenn.
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Thank you! I’m going to write about it here eventually, but I’ve had some good “offline” things come up in the writing world & I’m very excited about making some much needed changes.
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I’m looking forward to reading about it.
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“I only saw half
of her face
in dream” — Sets the tone for what follows terrifyingly well.
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Thank you for reading!
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