Absence

Absence

The gutters and the eaves
seem different
without him.
Even the grass
does not appear as green
as it once was.
The door jambs sag
in his absence.
The windows,
now hold a tainted reflection
when viewed from the outside lawn.
He is gone.
And the siding heaves in disapproval.
It used to be a loving home.
Walls that longed to hold their portraits
now feel naked and shunned.
She is the only one left.
It feels like a subduction of plate tectonics
ripped through its foundation
and rattled the normalcy apart.
This home, this house,
now weeps in crooked siding,
and chips of peeling paint
now that he is gone.