Ed, is this yours?
Uh, what?
Apparently there was now a grapefruit-sized, blue ceramic ball on the kitchen table.
Cynthia put it on top of the bookshelf.
Here are some things that were the same for Ed at work that day, despite the presence of the ball in his home.
His office smelled the same. It crossed his mind that he would rather be in academia. He let people interrupt him too often.
Here are some clues about where the ball came from.
Ed had trouble calling up an image of his father’s face. Come to think of it, he had never really been able to tell us much about his childhood.
Cynthia if you are reading this, I’m sorry, you were a good therapist, and you have been loved.
Cynthia, last night I dreamed that I was standing on a beach watching giant, shining fish jump out from the sea.
I woke up. I had my coffee. I felt so good.
About Mavis
My name is not really Mavis. This blog is a search party for what really moves me. It's not that I have no ideas about that, but I'm fickle about committing my energies to a long-term goal, at least when it's not tied to a group effort. I'm concerned about ocean acidification and climate change in general. I'm interested in how communities work, from physical and economic structures to decision-making, to arts, culture, and beliefs. I'm interested in how change happens on small and grand scales and from time to time try to help make it happen. I suspect if I wrote fiction it would be science fiction, though I'm not an aficionado (more an admirer). I believe the class system is unjust, but am doubtful of planned economies and utopias in general (though I'm emotionally attracted to utopias). I think I could write some really good songs and have written several fairly good ones. I wonder why I don't do this more. I want to direct. I don't take much for granted, at least not consciously. I'm a working parent with a life partner. I've heard that Aries start their sentences with "I" more than most people.
Acrobats 
What kind of note is this? A good-bye note? A suicide note? From a husband, a client? Mysterious.
I like having the same preoccupations and sensations as before the blue ball. I think the blue ball enhances his awareness of these.
Fish are coming up a lot.
The ball is the solid, ceramic weight of the void of not-remembering. It’s the memories, shrouded in the blue sky of “nothing.”
I like how the first stanza reads like a novel. I really like the shift from the third person to the second person in the second stanza. I find your narrative voice very natural and understated. I have the same questions Helen has about if this is a note. It seems like the second part is, but the first is a description of events in Ed’s life. I also wonder if Ed is writing the second part or not. It would be odd if Cynthia was in Ed’s home if she was his therapist. I think the poem stands very well with these questions unanswered, though. I suppose that’s part of what you’re writing about, right, unanswered questions?