Absence

The moon is absent,
the stars doused
by fog so there is nothing
to see, only to hear,
only to smell and feel.
I am a stranger to myself.
In darkness, mind absent
with the moon, I sleep
under the missing stars,
hands pricked with invisible
mists, so cold they feel
alien but they smell familiar,
a sweet mixture of her scent
and my tobacco that calls
my thoughts home again
where they know me.