What is Lost is Left Behind

Poem by Michelle Bovee Stange

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I'm out of yogurt and bread and my clothes all smell like mildew after I forgot them in the wash;
a lime is slowly turning sentient in my vegetable drawer-- a fuzzy science experiment--
a vase of roses is despairing, petal by petal, onto the countertop;
my phone charger is broken and my screen is cracked, anyway;
but worst of all, 
normalcy is blowing in on fresh spring air, and
day-to-day is growing up with the dogwood.
Your absence was a painting ripped from the canvas by a disgruntled artist;
a void and some disconnected pipe where the dishwasher used to be. 
But some days it's starting to seem stranger that you were here at all--
every day is another small movement away.

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Michelle Bovée Stange is an emerging writer with an MSc from the London School of Economics. She lives in Philadelphia with her husband, son, and little black cat.