Kim Porter Poet Imagism

Meeting

In a crowd where theirs always an
                       empty chair,
                        we gather.
All of us feel apart from,
                                  dissected,
                                     alone.
                       We've been rejected.

For quite some time,             I sat.
Reflecting hurt and secrets
                                 still
locked behind stone walls,
                                                     yet.
                      The only one
(well really a fabrication I chose to
believe  who remotely mattered , . . .
                                            . . .me.)
                          And
all I was able to see were two huge eyes
                       full of anguish

                                 A
                              Soul
                             oozing
nothing but grief and despair,             all of me,
                                                                  myself,
                                                                 and my 
         E     M     P     T     Y     N     E     S     S
                                                                exposed.

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