Gone

by Susan Elsley

Catch her before she’s gone
Tell her that it doesn’t matter
That the plate cracked
Scattering melting moments,  
With a crusty bag of sugar
Standing in for the porcelain daintiness
Of past sharing

Call her and take a skelf of time
To laugh about the dog running puppy-wild
And she got in a fank and you had to
Hold her, her breathing slowing to
A gentle exhale,
Respite against
The chemical clouding

Now it’s past, lift your head
And put it soft, weep-down
On the cornflower rug which braced her
As the zephr wind tore her from
Warm sodded earth,
Leaving you salt lipped
With the tang of absence
Now, a shred of evermore.