An empty chair
Nothing more than a human
Broken in tiny fragments of light
For which nothing is
Before the take off.
We have become so good at
talking about the weather
when we don’t speak at all.
Not a moment of silence can pass
without me reminding you
how you left the white empty chairs outside.
Look, it rained on them
for weeks and weeks,
we have nowhere to sit and rest now.
We walk on the frozen cement with bare feet
the rust peels off in the sun,
our skin peels off
to reveal the true colour of our bones.