No One Left and No One Came

The best haunting, the most haunting kind,

Is the human emptiness. Thomas

Caught it perfectly at Adlestrop,

But any wayside pause, suburban

Rural, urban, where people should be,

Where your memory expects people,

But there are no people anywhere,

Just a bare platform and grassy weeds,

Works. Once you’ve tasted it, even once,

That departure gate with no agents,

No passengers, just sun coming up

Over the tarmac at the airport,

The hotel lobby without a clerk,

Dust motes for an army of angels,

The gas station bus stop in the bush,

No bus for hours, no one to get on,

And even you aren’t waiting, just there,

For some reason, empty in your eyes,

Farther and farther, you can’t forget

That taste of being haunted, no one

Left, no one coming, coin on your tongue.