This is Where I Take My Leave, 2006

This is Where I Take My Leave, 2006

This is where I take my leave,
slinking–sliding away.

There is not a space
for you here. I'm smooth
in my leaving. You
didn't even notice.

Your mind is bouncing,
this way and that. Mine
is silent watching a
young girl in a white
dress. She's smiling–
still blond.

The sun shines where
she is. Her body is
strong. I whisper to
a woman. I say, “having
been raised by . . . ” He
clicks off for good.

This conversation
turned our hopes
into something that
we leave as it is.

We will say nothing.
We will be of like mind
with this one. She shutters.
I can feel it falling.

I'm going to take the
large table. I'll keep it
for her. He will sit next to it.
She will be propped up. The sun
will shine down on the wood.
We will keep it. It has night-
mares oozing out–echoes of her world.

A girl sitting, is
astonished by the beauty
of her face. Sitting silently.
Faces staring back, always.
I will stand to the side.
She will enter into what I
knew all along. Will
the grass touch my toes?

Trees talk–he was
my best friend. He
tried to show me
how strong it is.
He tried to make me
remember.

Oh, I remember.
I remember that one.
They moved up and
down one night in
my room. He called them.
It scared me–home. Just put
your arm around my
shoulders–sit with me.

I am saying good-bye
with a glance. I've been
gone equal to being
there. And I'm already done.
It just fell away.

I sat in a room with
others packed. The women
had wet eyes. An older
one said she didn't know
what power was.

It's always lived on the tip
of my tongue. The trick
is when to hold it back.

Take me now.
Can you feel that?
I'm gone. I've slipped
away. You're left alone with
those thoughts of fear.

I will pick up my inheritance
next month. I will pull out
what's mine & hers. Separate it out.
We'll drive over the hills
all the way back to my house.

It reminds the lady in
white of safety. Of large
ceramic dishes of warmth.

I will wear her dress.
It's bright and I am free.

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