Have you ever noticed how,

in certain wooden houses,

footsteps on the boards

overhead sound like heartbeats?

There is as much absence

in the sound as pressence

as much loss as gain

as though despite its own

evidence it may prove my

solitude.

But I don’t want to be alone.

Never truly alone in this world.

Don’t leave me. Tell me

who will care in thrity

years or forty to lift my chin

and say look a bird.

Last night, we had wind

and the dog barked, made

the house nervous. But we

all stayed in bed, waiting

for the breeze to die.

There were no footsteps.

Kyle Kimberlin

April 11 2004