Brogans
the space where you stood.
This is where you walked,
where my toes spread
out, almost snug.
I wonder if your tread
is similar to mine,
or if your shoes
fit like they should.
I walk out, tentative,
in ghost loafers.
Adopting your posture,
your gait, I walk
from heel to toe,
porch to kitchen.
Almost dizzy
I think (as you once did),
how much more time?
With a neat turn
I start again
looking for direction.
Steering a path,
I guide you back
into our room,
where, taking off
your shoes and lying down,
I sleep, for both of us,
the long afternoon.