First Thought On Waking (Poetry)

You are not gone —
your fine dust cleaves to me
you haunt another pre-dawn
as light creeps stealthily...

The mourning air moist
as your casual kiss
your chill breath in my hair
waits — sighing there.

Walls whisper your words
rolling the past round
the edge of my ear
teasing and telling me
you’re still living here.

Such persistence defies
every effort I’ve made
to evict you
yet thoughts imagined erased
linger on —

to taunt and repeat
like some mantra
instilled
you inhabit my mind
with your indelible song.