I thought you’d go on a crashed collage,
like slapping, dashing raindrops, falling hot
onto a rigid, shingled roof.
The cruel, unceasing breeze would swoop you up
so far away. The vacant space you left behind,
a pockmark on a tender skin,
would only gape a silent standing wake.
Instead, you slipped in quiet inches,
feathering down onto the heedless ground
to rest where roving eyes could not begin
to care to see what they don’t miss.
Your place became erased without
the slightest sense of protest made
in passing from my view.
It almost made me scream, the rush
that slammed into my thoughts like pelting sleet
against the helpless, silent ground.
In my defenseless way, I’d overlooked
what I had never known I’d lost
in pieces all along the path
I blazed from where we split apart.



About the Author

David Reuter been published in The Cape Rock, Courtship of Winds, El Portal, Existere Journal, The Literatus, Neologism Poetry Journal, Pennsylvania Literary Journal, Perceptions Magazine, Sandpiper, Sanskrit Literary-Arts Magazine, Visitant, and Vox Poetica. I attended William Paterson University’s Writer’s Conference in 2018 and Rutgers Writers’ Conferences in 2017, 2018 and 2019. I have a bachelor’s degree from Caldwell College and work as a paralegal. In my free time I enjoy practicing martial arts, playing guitar, and cooking.