V-signs (Poetry)

They’re everywhere — often cryptic
and invisible to the untrained eye —
I find them there —
flashing bright as belisha beacons
reminding me I cannot cross
to wherever she has gone —
I have to wait until it’s safe to dream.

She’s left me with these odd mementos —
a careless selection
that prick and prod —
urge a quick reaction.

Maybe I should eradicate —
expunge the traces — every sign I find
and wipe each sense and surface free —
cut the cord which triggers the rogue flashes of
convulsive personal electricity —
small shocks that jerk awake
each deadened nerve so randomly.

Hairs that I would never hurt hurt me —
loop noose-like at my throat —
an old brush with untidy laws —
ribbons thrust to the back of a drawer
and all those scribbled notes —
the naming of an old school pen
bold as graffiti splashed about the walls
for me to see — significant
but lost amongst the enormity
of what is missing.