The Static Where You Were

Tried to tell the story about her,

about the time she hid the good chocolates

under the loose floorboard in the pantry.

I wanted to get her laugh right.

That little snort she did, right before

she’d finish the punchline.

Leaned into it, trying to catch the sound,

the way her 'oh, you rascal!' would start low

and crack a little, high at the end.

Nothing. Just the flat words in my head.

My own voice, making them up.

A hollow place where the resonance should be.

Like a radio station fading out,

leaving only hiss and the knowledge

that something used to be there.