Dear Lise

Today, all day
I've been constructing loss in a lexicon of paper, scissored scatterings of this town where the living pause. I've cut our photos down to shadow, appreciate how you and I are neither here nor there, like estuaries and sea. Only that brazen lighthouse takes my grief hostage, its soaring searching light, that poignant blue. As it should, the bridge goes nowhere and a crane is lessoned in stillness, but above all, that blank walled space is most important, it resonates of us. Listen to my careful collage of sound, your pale name drifting like a bird, some low tow of fading sea, and his voice in counterpoint, taking you, taking you...