The Morning You Left
- for Abby
Bats surprise me,
their dark brooding
at this early hour
too gothic. You hoist
your duffel onto your back
and carry your next life
out to the porch.
I follow only so far.
What is there to see?
Certainly nothing
I can claim. That time you hurt
from some great loss,
I no longer remember what,
I do remember trying to comfort.
This is mine. All mine. Not yours.
and I want it, you shouted.
The bats are shy;
they swerve away,
not touching our bodies.
Yours I want to hold too long,
but don't. It is raining.
Only a foolish woman stands out
in the rain waving at nothing.
