Your Absence (A Poem)

Writing poetry's becoming a bit of a difficulty lately - I'm in more of a prose mood these days, so it feels a bit weird to just write poetry, not to mention writing it while not on a bit of a caffeine high from chugging a cup of coffee.  And there's also the issue of writing at home in Maryland.  The silence of the suburbs is just somewhat restricting this week, and I'm not sure why.  Hopefully it won't be too much of a burden during the summer!

The inspiration for this poem actually came from the graphic novel, Mother, Come Home by Paul Hornshemeier, which tells the story of a father and son getting over a mother's recent death.  The son is the narrator, and at one point he is talking about being the master of the yard, and he roughly says, "I was, in her absence, the master..." - I won't go on, for fear of butchering the line.  But there were no comma's, so I read, "I was in her absence," and when I realized my misreading I just had to write it down.  I was really intriguied for that brief moment of misreading in absence as a physical place.  


I'll probably come back to this idea again sometime - I'm so obsessed with death these days, it can't be healthy - and I'd like to revise the stanza where the narrator talks, because I think I can do more with that.  But if you have any questions, concerns, comments, criticisms, please let me know!  Especially tell me if you love it or if you hate it, and especially especially if you hate it.  Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!
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Your Absence
by Matthew Stalbaum

the space you left was vast, your lost
words echo against the walls through
airless expanses that no longer pulse
with your breathing, all is still.

i hid in one of the corners of
your absence, it has no feeling,
no sound or smell, no color,
it doesn't breath, it doesn't want.
outside, there is all, and here, here
there is not

but when I speak, the voice rings, warped
when it comes back - at least it is something,
and against the silence,
I only strike your name, hoping

your color smell sound feeling
could come back so
I could feel you against the walls,
and breath again with your
breathing