I noticed, as I always do, only the unintentional things:
a half-eaten plate of franks & beans; a dipshit kid
teasing his brother;
a portrait of the water looking more solid than land
on display in the museum & everyone musing
O, what expression of self.
I couldn’t leave you any more than I could love you.
And I’m sorry. I am.
Sunrise and sunset, that’s how my day was, you said
and all the while some leaves fell off the tree
like tiny, dropped hats,
some birds tucked their wings like gentle, dark night,
some painters dropped their brushes like rain,
some grasslands burrowed roots down like desperate, wronged hearts,
some antichrist plots the final, brutal destruction of love—
the river is a macramé of light, tender and blue.