white

Everything looks

white today. I held up

my head this morning to the light:

it was white. All the colors

of our window, crushed into

a single rainbow wavelength on our wall.

Everything

looks blank today. I spent

the afternoon in our library: white

stacked with white books on the walls,

my eyes fixed on the table

on my papers

white. Everything looks

empty, today. Like the way

computer screens look in the dark, or

the way words fled

out of my head, tonight,

looking at you and

pretending to think. Everything

looks barren today. A fallow

field, static on my handheld

radio. A reflection of

space, but reversed

like all the sky is white and

all the stars are gone.

Everything felt white

today. Not in combination but

without, an absence

like my world without

a place,

like your life without

me. I wanted to see

your colors, but it is

only

white

to me.

XX---