The Ex Files by John Grey

 

There’s something outside my window.
The shades are drawn
but I can see a shape, a wisp,  
a shadow on the glass.

There never were such sightings
when this bed was shared.
The world beyond the house
was as it should be.
Nothing coalesced into a face.
No eyes peeked in.

Most folks get the moon at night.
I suffer through a collage.
For isn’t that a strand of her hair?
Isn’t that silhouette
just crying out for her features?
She had a certain way of sauntering.
So does that starry outline
in the pane.

If only memory would stay in my head
where it belongs.
Why must it exist outside of me?
I could call on it when necessary.
Instead it shows up as it sees fit.

*****

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, North Dakota Quarterly and Lost Pilots. Latest books, ”Between Two Fires”, “Covert” and  “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in California Quarterly, Seventh Quarry, La Presa and Doubly Mad.