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Departures

 


Departures


Always 

going away, 

Footprints 

in grey carpet 

lift and fade.

 

Night is charged, 

ripples with 

displeasure. 

The neighbor 

on the phone 

says a big storm 

is comin in. 

Back from rehab 

four weeks, 

he knows storms.

And shame. 


You come

And go 

With the wind,

Forgive us our

Sins,

I reach back 

for you,

And nothing’s there

But air. 

(There’s Nothing

but air there.)


He’s been home 

too much. 

I've started 

to look for 

Brown paper

Bags in his 

hands. 

He takes the 

Trash out, heavy 

Bags with bottles

That clink and

Rattle when he

Walks. Oooh.   

 

You come

And go 

With the wind,

Forgive us our

Sins,

I reach back 

for you.

Nothing’s there

But air. 

 

Always 

going away, 

Footprints 

in grey carpet 

lift and fade.



(C) 2024 BMI

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