when he left

when he left, i did not think i could go on/ let alone go back into the house and see his stuff; i guess that would include the bed we slept in where his smells were jasmine thick as flocks of birds/ his box of art supplies/ his clothes, his shoes, his photographs of me/ so i went into the house through the backyard gate/ that way i would not see him like the ghost i knew he would become/ not remembering that his clothes were still on the line/