her departure left a cyanotype 

smudging his crisp 

black on white notes

a random flower

her grainy blue whisper

in the silent mornings

no erasing the mistake

it is a constant

needed to start 

the coffee machine 

to remember an umbrella

the mechanics of functioning

when he forgets

her distance hits him 

beading like rain 

on his surface of waxy petals

never quite sinking in

behind the snib of closure

her damply sweet 

mimeograph scent

fills the office

pen poised 

he strives to return 

to ideal conditions

where the square root

of him equalled 

*

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