I am hesitant
to put the toothbrush
away.
The drawer with the toothpaste,
opened everyday,
will it speak to me less loudly of your absence
from those depths?

I said no boxes,
no rigid confines.
Allowing.
Freedom.
The only holding,
grounded
in cupped palms,
the myriad wrinkles
of this life
proffered
upward & outward,
stilled
at the eternal balance
between giving & receiving
waiting,
but not waiting.

There are a hundred other things
to remind me of you.