The Thing that I Miss About You Is Me by Pamela Moss
Last summer,
I went back to the library,
Took the elevator to the third floor,
Pushed two arm chairs together
-Face-to-Face-
To make a nest,
The way we used to do.
Everything was the same:
The stacks,
The desks,
The hum of the water fountain,
Even the space near the qibla wall,
Where the Somalis unrolled their prayer rugs.
The only thing different this time was me—
And the absence of you.
I went back to the library,
Took the elevator to the third floor,
Pushed two arm chairs together
-Face-to-Face-
To make a nest,
The way we used to do.
Everything was the same:
The stacks,
The desks,
The hum of the water fountain,
Even the space near the qibla wall,
Where the Somalis unrolled their prayer rugs.
The only thing different this time was me—
And the absence of you.
Pamela Moss' Bio:
Pamela Moss is a health care professional based in Cincinnati. She’s seen enough tragedy, suffering and gore to last ten lifetimes. Poetry is her therapy.
Pamela Moss is a health care professional based in Cincinnati. She’s seen enough tragedy, suffering and gore to last ten lifetimes. Poetry is her therapy.
