Among the moths and the last light

Running rest-day ...

... and here's a poem by Ken Smith, from his 1998 'Wild Root' collection:


ABSENT

The other half of the conversation
has flown off in a jetplane
to the country of her own tongue.

And maybe she'll come back to me
or maybe not or maybe she was all a dream
I had in the blue garden in the dusk.

In the house the TV is watching itself
and the stereo listening to itself
and the fridge with its running commentary.

She's out there. And I'm out here
among the moths and the last light,
the blackbird at her evensong.