There are things one can never have,
no matter how much you want them.
This is that world,
not some other.
I look up into the swirling snow and think,
as only you know I do, of Lucretius.
The atoms fall forever, from nothing into nothing,
sometimes coming together.
This is what there is…
I feel you behind me,
and I speak your name into the snow,
and I am still now, careful not to move,
not to turn,
unwilling to see, again, that you are not here.