at loss

what i lack ~
perhaps the lexicon to explain
action or paralysis;
both warp my solitude.

watching a phonograph record
in the white sun
melting - it was such a beautiful song but too,
something so dogggedly beautiful in its wilting -
losing form gaining secrecy and its song
will not be stollen - only absorbed by heat.

what i lack ~
perhaps manifest in my need for words that aren't
just vague longings still
indiscrete in their entirety.
i have always been blind- how could i
explain the absence of light to
anyone - least of all myself?
i lack counterpoint, so i am silent;
palpably stranded on one side of a comparison
i cannot make, yet
such a thorough fusion to its presence.
i am inextricably bound to its absence made
tactile in my ignorance aching
like a hollow tooth.

what i lack ~
even as i cannot grasp what
"it" is, i am of it
as negative space.
i am antonym.