So Anyway

So Anyway

Lisa Zaran

I am sitting here alone on a cool
Tuesday evening on a perfectly worn
leather couch thinking of you,
far away where everything is brighter
because you're there. I am thinking
about your voice, how it reminds me
of something dark like charcoal,
I remember being a child and not having
chalk so I used charcoal to write
on the sidewalk. How my black letters,
black pictures beside the yellows and pinks
of others stood out, especially the heart
I was so fond of drawing with the arrow
piercing it top to bottom and the black
tear drops I used to draw underneath
to signify loss. I don't know how
I understood loss, before anything
terrible happened to me. I think
I must have foreseen loss like
a reader foresees a writer's secret
without ever turning to the book's final page,
finding that even in my happiness,
I was sad.