poem / a vacancy

his side of the closet
is vacant now
save for a handful of white
wire hangers left behind
too fragile and bent
to be useful again
and you don’t know where he went
or where he ever really was even
when he laid beside you in a bed
that refuses to let go
of his scent
and as you take
another sip of coffee
by a frosted window pane
you realize just how
cold were the days
and how empty those nights
despite his constant
presence
in your life
as an early morning snow
begins to fall.

this poem is included in my latest book, world thru a window available on amazon.com