A Great Length by Martin Willitts Jr.

There was a time when we wrote letters, 

but now my writing in longhand 

has fallen apart into illegible messes.

We hardly talk on the telephone, 

never speak at any great length, 

times when I miss you so bad, 

I wonder if I will ever hear from you again.

 

Such empty spaces. 

I do not know if you’re alive, 

or, god forbid, dead. I wait for the messages

that never arrive, never changing my address,

hoping you’ll reach out again,

but again never comes back again.

 

The unmentionable silence keeps expanding.

My grief is a lit porch light in the darkness.

I talk to you although you are not here. 

I tell the trees and closed curtains in case you hear.

 

I keep losing hope. 

I keep reaching for the light switch.

I cannot believe what keeps you away is so bad, 

then I am reminded, daily, you are not coming back.

 

Martin Willitts Jr is an editor for Comstock Review. He has over 20 chapbooks, and 10 full-length collections including forthcoming "The Uncertain Lover" (Dos Madres Press) and "The News From the Slow Country" (Aldrich Press).