Flotsam

– Debbie Lee

Today the world breaks.

I am awake, unblinking,
wanting to rip flowers
to shreds.

It is the incidental details.

Your granite jaw, your
extended yawn, the
viridian sigh of boredom.

I am unrecognisable.

My shattered hands,
reaching for the empty
side of the bed.

The aching absence more than
milk spilled, more than rooms
which tilt with loss.

Today the world breaks me.

I am water-colour grief,
twisting to an otherworldly shape,
weeping salt with rage-red precision.

Detached, an acute fulcrum.

Your male scent lingers,
amid mysterious whispers,
your fissures, an imprint.