Ghost wife

  How does it feel to lose her?

To be lost in the heart  of a dead cat that lies sadly by the road
  is not quite how it felt

but is still near enough to take the sole form of a fetal bloodless
  ghost of any cat carcass

that'd once petted me, paw outstretched to me for years without
   a thought, a cool ingratitude

It's how it looks to the aggrieved eye (and not just heart!). And
  ghostly pairs in me, insidiously

accumulated these past several years and horribly transmitted
   like one more sodden death

are always to be found where our accustomed jays and yards
  of a joy have been ground and

have vanished like a matted spirit by the road (minus the death
  pitch and sun's knife edge, of course)

My lost wife cannot then just be the usual red clay either, similarly
  felt absence of her garden

-swarming and eruption of flies drawn to succulent warm of it!-
   but always always dearer