the Dawning

The End of All, Gigs, Venues, Cafes, Films
Jams, Parks, Beaches, Hikes, 
Restaurants, Shows, Friendships
After I had already lost
Everyone

No Center, no Ideas, 
Certainly no room for me except 
a parking space, a chair
a drawer, a small studio there

Invisible
small
diminished, 
so as not to incur 
wrath
or jealousy

Not knowing how to drive to a place, 
to not be welcome,
in your home, your life, your bed.
I slept with one eye open

How do I say what happened
to those who thought
we had a thing?
He won’t tell me why
he pulled away
like Lucy and the football
again and again
except to recount the story of how he
Almost
didn’t get born because
his father
Almost
escaped the wedding.

Like I did . . .

He had a habit of getting Yelly
while I sat with
Head cocked
a puppy, trying to sort
word from meaning
a language I don’t understand

While he held a
rolled-up newspaper
behind his back

Sent from my <“m~ fone

January 21, 2024 | Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: breakup, grief, poem | Leave a comment