Poetry About Disappearing

The red carriage narrows beyond the bridge. A hand remains lifted after faces blur. Smoke loosens into the color of evening. Soon, the rails hold nothing but their shine. Disappearing is not the same as being gone. The eye keeps traveling where the body cannot.

Look again from the quieter edge. A hand remains lifted after faces blur. A smaller detail changes the whole scene. Soon, the rails hold nothing but their shine. Attention loosens the first easy answer. The eye keeps traveling where the body cannot.

The red carriage narrows beyond the bridge. Hours pass, but the image does not leave. Smoke loosens into the color of evening. It returns us to absence, fading, invisibility, memory, loss, and the traces left when something slips from view. Disappearing is not the same as being gone. The day continues with a more attentive heart.