Train of thought (I’ve lost)

Cut to curb, green concrete

fast feet, blisters toes meet

wish I would have listened now

shoes line closet, never slid out

hiding behind the screen of autumn

we are messily in denial

days stretch less but on our window sills

we still cut clothes + our hair short.

Inside + out the back door, wooden decking

checking other ears are not present in this setting

whistling of kettles & absent counterparts

confessional messages start

I’ve said before he’s good for me

he’s shown me the open door

where before, wading alone

I’d sit in rooms

sipping tea without thought.

I mean to say, I know now, we work together + alone

this pullovered man, his jersey woollen and stoic

sad and sentimental, bitter and heroic.

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