Sigh Of The Returnee

it is not the fullness that
overflows
it is the emptiness

of the house when you arrive
when the door that feigns the abundance within the room
finally surrenders
to the brokenness of the hinges

it is the fullness that spreads
too quickly like an ink of the squid
from the previous paths
of its escapades
from the threats of the predating ell

it is the silence that fills
the nothingness that sings
the unmoving furniture dressed in dust
the tempura that is left uneaten
and now
filled with
molds.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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