To Have Not
A poem
I had a home
I had a dog,
no babies
but a man
We had a life
We had a dream,
were young and crazy
way before I couldn’t
for the life of us
give to you
from what you had broken —
so slowly, but surely
every afternoon
when you came home
to beer and the backyard
instead of me,
seemed the sun always set early,
sideways rays staining
the grass gold,
and I had to shield my eyes
to watch you
from behind the window
where I died a little
each day —
to save us from the end
When the life that is over
belongs to you,
you’ll live
and you’ll breathe,
do what you just have to do
You’ll remember a lot,
search for his hands,
forget that he’s not
beside you in the bed
under the same moon
You’ll be confused:
see his voice and hear his face,
and you’ll remember
the place when he loved you
and the time where
he would never stop
