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.