today I look for you in batter
and swirls, in the fridge,
breaking off a piece of ice,
wiping the counter
everyone left the kitchen messy last night
I’m achy in my bones
evidence of too much time spent away
“Coming back,” he says,
“in Hebrew it means coming back to God”
so I am coming back
into the shape of my eyes
the clutter of family and dishes
a tomato, a single shoe, evidence of life
small perfect things.
You are everywhere,
I don’t know why you continue with me
but you do
(with my paradoxical longing to be with you and away)
I am coming back.
Ps. Thanks for your patience. In the wake of a book launch, I always find myself a little bereft of words.