Look: my windblown self, laid open,
or, another insolent word
like the wing of that crested bird
rephrased and tossed aside, broken.
This hill is a rocky ocean
of thorn and desire, absurd
in winter’s glaze, another slurred
and curtained morning forgotten.
Now lost habitats surround me.
Dead brush and loose skin drape my nights.
Remember, what is past, has passed.
The kettle whistles. I pour tea,
think of who I was. Oh, the delights
of leaving: nothing ever lasts.
* * *
“Another Goodbye” first appeared in Grand Little Things, a publication that “embraces versification, lyricism, and formal poetry,” in July 2020.
Thank you, editor Patrick Key, for taking this piece.