Poet in a closet

Poetry | From Monsoon and Arias (2022)

They say that man cannot live on bread alone
so I live on the thistles of her absence
and subsist on words. Ink and paper
nourished by crumbs of memories

Black-blue on white
crows and ravens feasting in my head
causing an ache I couldn’t spell
and I crouch onto myself
like a flower that bows down
spiritless and wrinkly

It seems like eons since she left
I live pressed like an autumn leaf
between the pages of her forlorn diary
so I wait and subsist on ink
that spells the color of her iris

Virgil’s ghost found residence
in the hallway closet
among coats, umbrellas
shoes, and her scarfs
He lurks to greet me politely
every morning and tells me
he found a portal in the closet
He calls me Dante and invites me
for a stroll in the netherworld
I decline invitation and say
“No need to aggravate my pain
I’m living with demons already”