MAGNITUDE

She welcomes hello
with eyelashes that blink
in waves
and I am the shore,
the resting place for her smile.

She shrinks
with fragile breath
bolstered by a long silver cord,
as if connected to heaven.
God makes oxygen machines.

She says bye
but my stomach says
wait,
and I wonder when I return
if she'll be here.

Empty space
will wave to me.
A hurricane
with a magnitude of years.
And the richter scale of sobs
will be shooting off the charts.


Judith Pordon