Fragile


I know these leaves
are not fragile,
but I’m alone
as I brush past them:
garbage in hand,
clear sky above
sharp with dawn.
The house is empty—
no socks on the floor,
no strands of hair in the tub,
just a few shreds
of cardboard from packing
and the fragile, faint
petal-soft
scent
of your missing soap.

© 2002 Christine Klocek-Lim

Advertisements

16 thoughts on “Fragile

  1. This piece can so easily strike, no, more like brush against, a core. Like a gentle peek, a somewhat lingering glance, at something unspoken. An exquisite poem, one that, to me, seems to relate to a previous one here entitled “Though Blind.” Both are indeed beautiful pieces. ^_^ I’m glad to have come across your poetry. I’ll be dropping by again for more. ^_^ Be well.

  2. Ahhhh, lovely. I love the contrast between the leaves and the fragile scent of soap (and the fragile narrator). Such good, “real” details throughout, such as garbage in hand and no socks on the floor.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s