Growing

by on March 9, 2016 :: 0 comments

You have
the most beautiful
house keys. You leave
me just enough
awake to watch
you leave.
– from Poem with Pepper Spray and Bottle Opener by Graham Foust

I’m still in the process of moving,
she said, out. My reply must have

been something like fine because
what other words has a shrug

learned to say? In high school
I fixed my geometry gaze

on that wave of flesh between
belt-loop and back, an ocean

of ivory smashed by a coast
of red or blue or the hue

of the day, sharply enhanced,
because I wore glasses

that I didn’t need––fifteen
from Wal-Mart, dollars

I mean. My stare, though aged,
has not traveled far. This

morning I watched her, storming
and mad, shoving her under-

wear into a sack, followed by
shirts, then all of her books

and a grimace reserved
for what I’ve become, mistakes

I have made; and sad as it sounds,
I would ask for it back––

the protractor days,
uncomfortable lust, and why

I insisted on trying to love
a creature whose penchant

for resplendent lace
I would dream of for hours,

curled up in the shower.

editors note:

What we can’t call back becomes our growing. – mh clay

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