on her desk as a token,
feeling guilty for not having
gone out for the drink she wanted,
I told her I would leave it,
thinking she would think of it
as an apology for all that
had gone wrong to this point,
the next step in what
I thought of as a thaw
(she had asked advice before last weekend and though she did not need it, I gave it,)
and assured our lives were back on track
to normalcy,
an idea that came to an abrupt end
when she called to ask
if I had left it,
and later, put the bottle back
on my cubby hole of a desk,
a dark statement to the dark look
she ‘d given me over the meeting table,
so cold it could have chilled the wind
she did not want,
and I felt at a loss as what to say or do,
some dark clouds hovering over me,
following wherever I go,
sad, and thick with foreboding
as I felt the vacancy in me
no mere wine could fill,
empty, lost, stirred up like
old ashes to a fire no longer
capable of being reignited,
yet burning deeply inside me nonetheless.
No comments:
Post a Comment