changes, like the wind
A Collaborative Effort with Devon Henry
she crams her feet
into fat-tongued
Reebok’s, ties the shoelaces
quickly, & hustles
out the door
no goodbye
no see you later
no words of wisdom
or reminders of love
I’ve grown so used
to watching
her leave
it’s pointless
trying to
remember anything else
His voice leaves the
room first, slowly
drips off the bed,
caramel-sweet, filling
the cracks in the
century-old hardwood
floor
Creeps under the
door through the
hallway, muffling his
steps so he won’t
wake your sleeping
roommate
The bitchy one with
the Radiohead tattoo
who thinks no one
knows she’s fucking
the guy next door, the
one with the cover
band
It cascades down the
narrow old stairs,
protecting bare feet
that follow behind him
from splinters, lubes
the hinges on the
creaky front door on
his way out
It barely makes it to
his car, puddling
under like an oil
change reminder and
then he’s gone
And the whole street
smells like
sweetness, the kind
that rots teeth
or the kind that
bolts in upright crashing
into split-in-two hearts
devouring kings & queens
she looks back, thinks
of returning, changes her
mind like the wind
changes her mind
*It is a pleasure to work with Devon Henry again. This time, we tweaked a little Twitter poem I spouted a few weeks ago. She’s amazing and this warms my heart. Here is our first collaboration. Thank you for reading.
©2020 Devon Henry and Tremaine L. Loadholt
