shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Elisabeth Crago

Page 1 | 2 | 3

When I Forget

In a waking dream the moon scripts
shadows across the wall—the curve
of your brow, stoop of your shoulders—
and for a moment I forget you are gone.

My hand reaches across the empty bed,
stutters to find your side smooth and unruffled.
The shadow shifts and I feel your arms
around me, shiver in your empty embrace.

No hope of sleep now, I step into the night,
make my way to the lake's edge.
The black stillness envelopes me.

In the dark I can't see the lake weed
that strangles, chokes, steals oxygen.
Waves lap the shoreline, relentless.