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.

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