Specialty

Something silly happens at night
when I stop apologizing and
start peering over my shoulder
for a clue, an appearance from

this person I once held dearly.
The thing is, I never could
put my finger on the importance,
the exact role that held his space.

Since removing this bookmark,
no hole or trace of placement
is lost.  No torn corner to
inform me of this information.

Just a swelling sense of correct
ink in just the right margins.
A breeze through this book
finding the notes that served me

seem only like memories.
Vacant until night; a full moon
of Scorpio swinging behind
clouds patterned ferociously.

At this desk with my dog,
white cheese and water I
wonder who he is and why
there is still a need.

Ahh..I won't leave you hanging.