Shirts

There was a cool spring breeze
and she had washed his shirts
and hung them outside on hangers
in front of the window.

He was working at his desk
when he noticed movement
out of the corner of his eye.

First he thought someone
was coming to the door
and then he looked again
and those shirts made him feel

strangely empty, as if he
was out there blowing around
in the April wind.

Late in the afternoon
she gathered them in, pressing
them for a moment to her face,
taking in that crisp but

unmistakable smell
of no one.