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Where You Are Not

by Laura Lee

I walk the campus
think I see two shadows:

yours, tall, thin, leaning forward
mine, short, squat, leaning into you.

But I am holding my own hand
carrying books, plans,
papers not yet graded.

Later I drove our
old red station wagon
to the woods

walked in withering
blue jays  squawked

small gold finches
flew away;
and you were not there. 


Days later at the symphony
red sequins and shine
found me feverish
hair hiding face
I felt sleep
found me

on shoulders not yours.


Leaving Vivaldi early,
I knew the lake was near
I would not look
at the gleaming
nor listen to waves;

they are always

Laura Lee is a Chicago area poet, college instructor, literacy tutor, and writer. Her poetry, fiction, and nonfiction have been published in print and online journals in the US, the UK, New Zealand, India, and Greece.


For a complete list of publications, visit her website at:


Follow Laura Lee on Twitter at:

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June 2019

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