On Outliving One’s Child

He pads down dark corridors
peering into empty rooms

Loss curls around him
rubbing his stubble

He swallows it whole
and feels it settle
heavy
in his belly

Picking at a frayed seam
he wonders how he can be both
so full
and so empty

 

This is for Bjorn at dVerse Poets Pub where we have been asked to write a poem of forty-four words including the word, “curl”, also know as a quadrille.