beneath the cloth

it's fear, mostly.

it's not the absence,
the vacant
lot
of one's heart, or
the echo
of one pair of shoes
on the floor,
going up the stairs.

it's not one plate
on the table, or
one light on beside
the bed.

it's fear mostly,

not of being alone, or
unloved,
or lost.

it's something else,
entirely,
it's beyond the surface
of one's life,

it's beneath
the cloth.