Songs of Fictive Moments: As you left

I did not listen to your leaving
as you left. I did not hear 

the floorboards creaking, the scrape 
of your fingernails on the wall

down the hall, the click-click
of them on the doorknob, the 

catch-cracking of the latch opening 
or the scream of the hinge of the door. 

No, I did not hear them at all.
I stayed where I was in my chair

with my thoughts and my drink
and my stare but I did hear you stop.

I heard your breath catch in your throat.
I heard the hesitation in your step,

your two desires pulling you apart, 
pulling you to pieces right there 

on the threshold, right there in the hall.
I heard the split in you. All these things 

I heard as you stood there, the house 
ticking around you, the floor 

stretching away down the hall.
I heard your cheek almost touch 

your shoulder, your chin almost 
touch your collar bone and then 

I heard your head whip back to 
front, the snap of the earth back 

into place. The slam of the door
I did not hear, and again

the silence as I sat. I 
was firm in the fabric  

of the seat of the chair.
I was sewn there.

My skin tore 
as I tried to rise.

So I didn’t.
So I let you.

(The third piece in a series of unrelated pieces that are somehow, in my mind, related)

14 thoughts on “Songs of Fictive Moments: As you left

  1. This is a great way to write about love and loss…a real one of a kind poem that comes across in your unique voice so I know I am reading something that has not been done before. Love and loss, perhaps the most written about subjects in the history of poetry and here you are telling us about them as if for the first time…Johnny Crabcakes, I think you really are the poet you started out to become.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you so much, Deborah.
      Perhaps it’s guilt. I can remember viscerally being the one that left though I felt like the one in the chair, powerless. “terrifying inertia” sums it up perfectly.
      Thanks for the insight!


    • Thank you, Lynn. There is a sensation here that I have felt before, even though this is a “fiction”. It has something to do, yes, with sound and silence and how that feels bodily.
      Thanks especially for this insight.


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