the well-wishers

It’s come to this – an empty house;

a bag of cupcakes from teenage girls

(so neighbourly, so young)

blowing smoke into their hands -

our lakes now frozen over.

 

“but don’t mind the furniture

on the front lawn, ladies…

what we have here is a failure to

figure things out –

a killing of the old self,

and she could be wrong by morning.”

 

The only thing we had in common was

that we loved each other;

how waking up beside one another might have

been a small, daily victory.

 

And now, unshaven,

the squinting,

the icing on your bathrobe.

And all her things (from the closet, from the sill)

left for garbage -

too afraid to come down the stairs on

their own, on their way outside,

to the light,

to the world of get up and gone.

Published online June 10 2008.


The Jilted Issue cover image

This piece was published in ‘The Jilted Issue,’ the Spring 2008 issue of CV2.

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