SUCH A STRANGER

Leading nowhere, the side

street gleams with promise
like a luxury liner all lit up.

An unanchored buoy
divides mist.

Dusk bleeds into night, drips
slowly in a dark space the way
rain grips leaf and stone
before seeping into the dry ground.

Your voice echoes in that room.

How can I visit
when your doorbell is broken?

For a sense of self, I cling to lack
and feed on absence. I was asleep
the night you died. Now I wake up
every morning making sure what’s
missing is still here.

PUBLISHED IN SAN PEDRO RIVER REVIEW, VOL. 18 NO. 1 SPRING 2026