Presence
 
And here too, in the place that loved you back,
your absence grows; in the guillotine of green-
house glass, in a trellis slung from the hips of a rose.
The sun hangs in an empty feeder, which jigs and birls
on the cherry tree, a web spans tongue to heel across
your weather-cured shoes, still two sizes too big for me.
 




*Roy Marshall says “I am a nurse and a dad and write a bit when I can.  A pamphlet of my poems is out in 2012 from Crystal Clear Creators.”  He blogs here.

Presence has previously appeared in New Walk magazine, Vol. 1.