for --

while you were

a Breathing

thing

the substance of 

your Presence

pressed on

my chest

like wind

embodied

in the quiet

sway of

fethered reed grass

as it reaches

thoughtlessly toward

                 god

                 now

untroubled by life and 

lungs and all of the

wearisome complications

that their habitual expansions

and contractions confer—

the tangible Silence

that stands in your place

casts a dense shadow

on motionless green