"You're on the West Coast"

To appear as absence,
the kettle must not whistle,
the keyboard should not tap,
likewise no wind
to perpetrate the kiss
of tree and air -

the lack of words is just
light and the world
making of shadow what they will,
the captured riddle
more powerful than any empty
right side of the bed -

distance is not the monster
it believes it is,
just mountains, prairie,
divided by dreams -

thoughts are forever restoring something,
movement and business
play up to time,
life wears away
the unimportant grind,
puts the toaster in its place,
sacks the microwave,
gives the television fair warning -

everything here
is gone until

the last is you,
the last is what you are,
intuitive to the hierarchy
of people down my years,
all this technology
yet what I cannot feel
switches off.



John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in Examined Life JournalStudio One and Columbia Review with work upcoming in Leading EdgePoetry East and Midwest Quarterly.

John Grey