The lines enclosed
a minute detail
a spark of something physical
acknowledging the grief
repeating these claims that it cannot be
cynical
to judge a situation purely on love
or its absence.
It was found this morning,
perched under the stairs
crumpled up on a piece of paper
It said
'I woke up and I was a man. I looked for
the signs that would point out
where I slept and kept you close.
Nothing happened but the breeze.'