In sleep,
you were inside of me
for a split
second.
The following afternoon,
I still felt full.
In wake,
you were stuck
in my mind for six,
going on seven,
years.
In day dreams,
night dreams,
photographs,
and film,
always,
you were there,
looking back at millions --
me,
her,
your mother,
your brother,
your missing father,
and the whole wild,
damn world,
or maybe,
sometimes,
like us,
back home,
no one was there --
not even
the post man.
C.A. MacConnell
