Shadow Calls

For publication

Shadow Calls

I whisper to the sun scorched city, “Where?”
but no reply is heard off the windowed
walls.  The glass caged bird doesn’t want to share
its secrets, locked inside its safe abode.

Though futile calls bring no response, I try
again again again, as if three times
will drive you from your absent state, or dry
my tears to feign forgiveness for your crimes.

You left without a word and I, bereft,
stand looking out through bars of empty space.
My sentence, served by me but for your theft,
no time or good behavior will erase.

A thousand calls to beg for your reprieve,
imprisoned by the shadow that you leave.