Pockets Full of Heavy Emptiness

A poem.

Pockets Full of Heavy Emptiness

Pockets full of heavy emptiness;
Large coins spill, plinking upon the porcelain;
After a quarter century still uncomfortable
Squatting above this foreign land.

Rooms occupied by missing faces;
Calls to dinner full of hollow bass;
Daily routines of other’s comfort food,
And click-clacking complaints of rising prices.

Knotted-muscles pump thinning blood,
Watered-down by time and distance;
They told me to eat more red-bean porridge,
But I was raised on molasses and milk.

A weak tea leaf on the fifth pour,
Spent and floating just below the surface,
Sapped by the hot, humid, stifling air,
Dreaming of my temperate origins.

Viral infections, political and biological;
Empty, unpolluted skies, jets stand idle;
Sketched borders, once dotted-lines, solidify;
Am I on the wrong side?

Be well,



  1. Kathleen says:

    Strong imagery and rhythm. Thankyou for sharing this

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Monty Vern says:

      Thank you for reading and proving feedback!


  2. murisopsis says:

    This one is very well written and the uncertainty and longing come through clearly. Have you not been able to access some ingredients to make some comfort food (specifically for you)? The nostalgia is strong in this post and it makes me want to send you some maple syrup!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Monty Vern says:

      Haha. How could you know that Maple Syrup would be just perfect (since I grew up in Vermont)?! But, seriously, thank you for being such an avid reader and feedback provider. I think its a little bit of everything that adds up to longing…not any one thing. The difficulty in travel now makes it harder since it “feels” further.


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