april tossed us just a tease of sunshine
lightly over her lily-lilac shoulder
before slipping away with packed bags
and never looking back

(oh just when you think you might you could you
almost want to
fall in love again…)

and justlikethat, you are not okay
mayday mayday
all over your fragile face

no need to say it — i know now we’ll be leaving this place.

so you take me to your mother’s grave
and we fall backwards behind our private skies
sifting before “us” days like photographs
& weaving separate footprints through our labyrinths of loss

and suddenly, the sky breaks and
i see it’s true —
i have nothing left to give you
but my quiet things:

morning hours soft as handkerchiefs of lace,
private smiles saying “please wait up for me tonight”
thrown from across a crowded room

or maybe
from a stratosphere away.