His eyelids shades 

his pupils within pupils sunk back 

ghosting my certainty of him

now perched on a precipice 

dividing the last twenty years 

from the next 

my certainty of him

now axed by his “Hello”

in all twenty years 

he never said “Hello”

“Hello” was for strangers

“Hello” was not 

“Hi Hon, what’s for dinner

smells great, can I steal a taste” 

this “Hello” was a guillotine 

beheading certainty 

this “Hello” was a north wind  

blowing my heart into a snow drift

this “Hello” was a lasso 

retrieving tomorrow 

from the banks of hope

“Hello” is what he said to me

“Hello” shaded beneath lids 

“Hello” sunk behind pupils within pupils 

this “Hello” was from where she lay 

in the manger of all his tomorrows.

What are you looking for?