It's Still Life

All Clear

Something fell.
Not from the sky,
from inside the architecture of me.
A dark shade pulled,
a sudden subtraction.
I ducked.
Who wouldn’t duck
when the world suddenly lacks
the corner where you keep your name?

They looked.
They said: trick.
Just a trick.
As if the body playing haunted house
is somehow less a ghost.

I am not blind.
But I have seen,
for one long, folding moment,
what it would feel like
to lose the witness.

The verdict: all clear.
But the shade remembers its drop.
And I remember
that sight is not seeing;
it is being allowed
to stay in the room
where the light still lives.

©Misky 2006-2026.