morning routine. by Taryn Dixon

As I sit here

on the front porch—

I drink a cup

of coffee

             alone

and stare

at the rocking chair

your body 

used to fill.

The sun is rising

and the colors should

make me marvel

but everything seems faded now.

This cup of coffee

no longer tastes of 

strawberry and milk chocolate

and your chair

is still here,

             empty.

It rocks

with the wind

instead of to you humming

your favorite country song

                          the one you know

                                            I hate

but would give anything

to hear again.

As I sit here

on the front porch—

I drink a cup

of coffee

out of your favorite mug,

the purple one 

with little white specks

something I never quite understood,

                          I’m here 

                          without you.

____________________________________________________________

Taryn Dixon is a graduate student at Southeastern Louisiana University and editorial assistant at Louisiana Literature Press.