just as the unaided eye cannot see atoms
so are we unable to see the dead
who surround us
whose infinite number we
oblivious
pass through in empty supermarket aisles
and crowded airport lounges
in the night hallway as we walk to the bathroom.
father mother brother
your dearest lost dear
at your right hand, your left, your back
whispering if only you could hear them
apologies warnings advice absolution
telling you the winning number
of last week’s SuperLotto
saying in no particular order
I’m sorry I hurt you
no no left at Elm
not the pepper steak sweetie you’ll be up all night
and I forgive you
plankton too glimmer in the existential dark
last summer’s daylilies
bloom again while a squirrel
squashed under your rear wheel last fall
sits up bright-eyed chittering in your path
and your favorite mutt
gone and sorely missed these last ten years
snores at the foot of the bed still your good girl
that inexplicable weight
odd yet somehow deeply comforting
you half-asleep feel in the middle of the night
her big head resting heavy on your leg
