“In the Rush To Leave”
In the rush to leave , her feet
Were all she needed. Lips
Were why she’d never caught his drift in endless trips
She’s made in vain in rain and snow, and all that sleep.
“The hell you say!” she’s never once looked back,
But in this morning’s mist she’ll retrace her steps and find the door
Wide open as she left it. No. Wait a minute… On the floor,
An upturned pot, a fork, and half a sack
Of sugar, and, “By God a note,…” she mumbles,
“Who the Jake are you to keep me waiting in the hall like this?”
She’sd baked the meatloaf, tossed the veggies, rolled it all in one big kiss,
And there she’d sat―hours while the flowers wilt. Another reason stumbles.
Grab the suitcase, three small wrinkled photographs and let it go at that
While gazing through a rain soaked window
on a midnight northbound track.