Find Me Again, Alone

Kind ghost!
I’ve heard your voice so intimately close;

wind and street-sounds drowned out and longing
murmurs from the empty pillow
serenading through silent sleepless black,
till morning sends sunlight warming you away.

Whose hands were yours
before chilling my spine?

On Every Last Morning After

Leave me alone in the hush
of your porch
after a long night, long
morning – long
shadows cast by trees
along your childhood
street.

I want the quiet!
of residential winding roads
as I find my way
to the lonely bus
stop and hope the driver
won’t know, won’t be able
to tell

Autonomy

So his hand hovered lonely above,
and withdrew
finally.

Let the door shut gently!
The seasons are shifting
and all around hang discarded
garments, detritus,

all around the promise
of falling leaves
returning home

About the author

Pronouns: they/them
Bio: First witnessed in the icy wastes of Canada, Jan K is a long-time poet who has only recently set out into the world of submissions, publishing, and Being a Real Writer. If you want to keep up with them or their work, you can find them @sublunarities on Twitter.

Trees photo by Silvana Amicone on Unsplash.
Street lamp photo by Artem Kovalev on Unsplash.