The Shape Of Absence

Dancing words, appearing like puppets —
Dressed pretty in sombre mood
Trying to draw the shape of me

A line there
A smudge here
A circle — a semicircle — somewhere
Drawing in dark, empty space
With coloured pens
Brushes, highlighters

The ink does not stick
It disappears
Before the shape takes form —
Leaving only a memory of movement
And even that —
Like smoke in the dark
Where time takes birth

Layer upon vanishing layer
Tracing an invisible shape
With phantom ink, fading marks —
Drawing the absence of me

Stepping over the kerb
Getting up out of bed
Pulling up trousers
Turning a page —
And the corner on the side street

Leaving home
And going through another door
Turning head, listening
To say something —
Each gesture, a dissolving line
Drawing the shape of the absence of me