March 30, 2008

You Are Going To Leave Me

You Are Going To Leave Me

You are going to leave me. Of this I am quite sure:
You are going to leave me.

I know it when I see your green socks in the tumble-drier.
See your towel lying there.

I know it when I walk past books you’ve talked about in shops:
You are going to leave me.

I lower my foot from the kerb and realize I have not checked for cars
Because I thought you had left me.

I catch myself wiggling my toes through holes in my socks.
What are the point of good socks if you are going to leave me?

I am not hungry but eat the cake in the kitchen anyway because it is there and you aren’t.
This is how it will be after you have left me:
Icing and crumbs.

Your green socks are without holes.
Mine have been pulled out to threads.

I think I see you on the other side of the road, lost in shivers of traffic.
Then you are too soon gone:

Like June.


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