Empty Nest Poem by Miki Byrne

Empty Nest.

She smooths the bed.
Inches a photograph into place.
Rubs a pink-nailed finger over surfaces.
Searches for dust.
Views the accumulations
of childhood on the wane,
the bed where she would gentle him
after nightmares, football trophies
lined upon a shelf.
The room yawns.
Stretches like an empty mouth.
Angles sharp, walls reflecting past tastes,
long discarded posters.
Holds nothing forgiving.
Nothing of blame.
She clings to its neutrality.
Its borderless lands.
Waits for numbness to lock her heart.
Give her strength to finish the day.