An Ode to Absences

to the empty squares on a chess board
that remind us of dead rooks.
an empty castle-- hollow,
without any paintings on the walls.
the school-day in november when
i had a fever & stayed home. dad dropping 
goldfish crackers in tomato soup. 
the taste of grape medicine 
& the weather channel walking
into the living room through
the television, wearing a saxophone
for a necklace. this is where
you laid two nights ago. 
where i used to have a bowl
of oranges. where the bird feeder
hung from the porch. 
this is where my body feels 
incomplete. what i would do
if i were clay, go back to
genesis, to our god who works
in absences. his knights & bishops.
a diagonal world. i trace my hand 
across my chest & tell you about
all the things i would change.
about the backyard where i would
plant a spearmint bush. about
pulling the freckles off my
face like strawberry seeds.
there's anyway some kind of
basement. i want to learn 
to worship unfilled spaces, to leave 
more vacancies. the fridge door,
left open & all the deli meat 
coming alive. white wearing dream--
where the mason jars are hungry.
where my mother is un-doing
a row of knitting. 
where you sat in the passenger 
seat & brushed against my hand,
a stoplight. a wrong turn.
a bowl in the sink left to soak.
alone in my room i hold onto
your disappeared places, take 
ink & draw your old outlines all
over the walls, the floor,
the porch, the kitchen cabinets.
they're calling for autumn & 
a fit of rain. the living room says so.
there is where we stood,
where a banana rested on top
of the fridge. i lay in your
silhouettes & pray. 
you asked me why & how i could
consider myself a catholic.
the space between rosary beads.  
the candles blowing out-- 
a tongue of fire across my neck. 
oh absence,
oh ghost.