Sorrow

It's not much,
like when the Salvation bells ring
and you reach into your pocket for spare change
and pull out lint and a game token.
But it's all you can do,
this gravitational pull that sinks with you in the couch
and sits awkwardly like a boy grown too large
for the chairs in the elementary schoolroom.
For your loss, you say,
but it's not for the loss so much
as it is to ignore the loss,
the sudden poverty
of shrug, gesture, bouquet,
words without color,
a handshake of black and white.