a space was filled that
previously had no voice or name,
only the empty remorse of
missed birthdays, unpaid bills,
and niecesandnephews never met.
But in the deafening loneliness of
the local grocer's, unexpectedly
facing eyes from his past, his
canned fish aisle life became
evident when a wagging finger
and shaking ponytail lamented
his trouble with meth.
Copyright, Catherine Young, 2012.
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