October 11, 2007
By: E.B. Alston
Topsail Island, NC
“Suppose I vanished?” she said one night
After we had made love.
I was drifting off to sleep.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Are you going somewhere else
Or leaving me for another?”
“No, silly. Not anything like that.
Suppose I just vanished?”
“I don’t get it. Why would you leave?”
“I’m not leaving you,” she said.
“I just wouldn’t be here.”
Moonlight filled the room,
Through the open blinds.
The windows were open.
A gust of wind blew the curtains.
They brushed my legs as they fell back.
“I’ll miss you,” I said as I drifted off to sleep.
Time flew and I forgot.
Then one day she was gone.
She left all of her things.
The police suspected foul play.
But they didn’t know.
It’s been two weeks since she vanished.
Not a word. Not even a postcard.
I wonder where she is.
If she returns, I’ll vanish myself
Just to show her how it feels
Except, I don’t know how.
My life is pretty much like it was
Except, of course, for missing her.
The empty space she doesn’t occupy anymore.
I’m in our bed. Moonlight fills the room
A gust of wind blows the curtains
And they brush my legs as they fall.
I know the answer to her question.
The one about what I’d do if she vanished.
After a while, I’d do nothing
But go through my day without her.
E. B. Alston 07/07