Empty Chairs

empty chairs
oddly pure in memories
we care to keep; vacancy
impresses less than
intense stressful
emptiness

empty rooms
complete a litany opaque
and crude; ‘too hard
to countenance’ decrees
abused as cost of
wasted faith

empty space
where once applause in
raucous voice appealed for
acts original to entertain,
for selflessness
embraced

emptiness
invades, cruelly wasting
atmospheres of solitude as
room to breathe; there
is no air that’s
pure or free
© 21 July 2011, I. D. Carswell