Tuesday, April 18, 2023

Missing, 1979

 

Window.  A little rain splatter

on such a large space.

 

Wide eyes straining

to catch a glimpse of brown,

tiny, quick-dashing paws.

 

Any sight from any side of the road?

Darkness darker. 

 

Sinking deeper into the depths

of the well-worn olive green

jacquard couch,

 

a little rain splatter

on such a large space.

 

 

© 2023 Jennifer Wagner

 

 For dVerse Poetics: Window Gazing

8 comments:

  1. Aww, this sad 😔

    Well written 👏🏻

    Sincerely,
    David
    Skepticskaddish.com

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  2. This is such a poignant piece, Jennifer, which you have conveyed in so few words. The repetition of ‘a little rain splatter / on such a large space.’ Is so effective.

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  3. So poignant. The short lines and stark images and the repetition are so effective here. Thank you for sharing.

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  4. This packs a punch. Heartbreaking.

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  5. I love how you incorporate so much of the story in the title... some things we just continue to remember

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  6. I imagine that jacquard couch is very pretty. I am glad we have windows, most are fairly predictable for what all we will be seeing.
    BTW, we did have coyotes where we lived the second place (of three owned). Our Beagle dog chased them. Amber died before we moved to number two and is buried beside the garage in the flower bed where she was generally to be found. Here (Katy, Texas) our wild life is made of rabbits and alligators, plus the birds.
    ..

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  7. I assume this is about a lost pet. They may be small but they take up a huge space in our lives and hearts. When they are gone, it leaves a painful emptiness. I have never had a pet vanish, but I would be a basket case wondering what happened to them.

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Thank you for your thoughts!