Empty are her open palms. Oblivion rises in her irises. All her inaudible words are whispers now in storms of empty space. Her recollection is a chaos of absences. Even her hair is empty sky, black and shining both, unreachable beside me, the unattainable stars, cascading night. (c) Eric Robert Nolan 2023 Photo credit: Sarah … Continue reading “Nothing,” by Eric Robert Nolan