... house desolate.
Returning is just a pause, in valediction.
Gentle tears do not dissolve
the lump of disappointment
the not hereness of you.
On almost the same theme, Caroline wrote a short poem called: Transported. This piece was wrote in such a way that it sounds like the narrator is describing a cattle truck, the title however, gives a clue to the terrible cargo:
It Looks out at me through the slit...
I can't help but think about other eyes
clanking, stinking, rolling
to the end of the line
That is scary thought!