You did not embarrass me with
the apricot corsage, bottle of
wordless complicity.
How much you spent for dinner
and your screams at night
I know won’t suffice.
The litho posters
are stuck to photographs; odd
haircuts and teeth
in a head no longer yours.
Who helped to cart
the rental truck,
the weather
you are. And you left
without the Egyptian
pipe cutting tools,
school papers and spools of wire and thread.
You never did this side of the bridge,
this after that island was home.
There are double yellow
traffic lights and
where there was only snow,
for a moment I am climbing an oak,
there you are,
tree.
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