She's out early this morning the house quiet without her One instant of silence bleeding through to the next by way of poorly understood capillary action An osmosis that diffuses her absence through the aether that fills these walls like the lifeblood rising through the senescent trunk of my venerable eucalyptus The air composes itself in the wanting serenity of her missing laughter to deny child prodigy, son of tax collector of Rouen, the measure of her agitations No calling out of my name nor hushed conversations with the cat No kitchen or bathroom noises that ripple through the emptiness in waves of excited particles pressing each other like so many epsilons at the Shinkansen that rips through the Honshu countryside She'll return after lunch the eucalyptus will barely notice [21 IV 2012]