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Once Love is Gone, It’s Gone Everywhere
Can’t stop walking past the pub we last kissed at. I look for you at the shuffleboard table in the window & you’re never there. While eating pizza last night we determined our periods have synced up & we will both start this weekend Sunday’s full moon cuing our wombs. Sadness is the moon. Everything else eclipsed. We are trying to transition into friendship. I choose my soup recipes as if you are still the audience curried noodled. I eat alone until nothing else will fit wish my emptiness were literal. The last time we looked at the moon from right here I stopped cars to help a stray cat cross the street. When I got back to our blanket you touched my hand said you’re a good person. I buy chocolate & hide it from myself but I know where it is. Try to save it for emergencies but it’s always an emergency. The ambulance speeding by negates me. When we looked at the moon you asked what would the moon’s name be if not moon? I don’t know. You said Persephone. Queen of the underworld. Seed of the fruits & the fields. Vegetation goddess. Spring a half a year away & my windshield already early-fall frosted. My hands too cold to be bare. My womb barren just how I like it. If I plant this sadness in the garden I am certain it would die there if I were more capable of neglect. I will cramp up on my walk. You will be in the bath with your salts. |
