I always remember you’re not here.

Such a smiling countenance, 
so much orangeness
so very gone

I hear you in the silence of the passageway
the silence of the house
and
the silence of the yard

(I didn’t even know I was chatting,
shuffling around in our island of a house
and now I’m just talking to myself)

I’m aching for the feel of my dingo friend
not lost
not alone.
Patient
Hairy

I remember the puppy with his head on my bed,
soulful eyes
staring
willing me to get up and fill a bowl of biscuits
just a bowl of biscuits

sometimes I wake up
and when I remember

How I would give anything 
to have a reason to fill a metal bowl with biscuits,
wait for the click of dog-nails on floorboards,
and crunching,
to come from the silence

I tried to throw out your blankets
yesterday.
They smell like you

I crammed them into the bin to forget them
they stuck like a cork in a bottle
and the garbo left them behind.