I cried for nothing last night.
Over nothing, because of nothing,
felt nothing, felt hollowness,
felt my own absence.

Who am I now: skeleton without body?
Body without frame? There is a lack,
a sense of floating, like no anchor pulls,
I am free to leave.

I cried last night, but know
I love life, I wish to stay here
even without you,
so — guilt, my heart erratic,
mind-whirl, body-ready,
I will stay, miss you, wish you
here, but not yet do I
wish me there.

Cleo Griffith was Chair of the Editorial Board of Song of the San Joaquin for its first twelve years, on the Board in its 16th year. A member of the Modesto branch of the National League of American Pen Women, and widely published, she lives in Salida, CA with her cats, Amber and Neil.