We were trying to split things
as best we could, down to the salt and pepper
of chairs, lamps, books, our son's school
papersfurniture, dishes, sand and gravel.
Less and less daylight between the pores
of forgiving and the pores of pain.
If you want to know what this feels like,
look out over the top of a train, see
the miles ahead on a straight track.
Remember every day you've lived
poorly, if possible, before this one,
that last climb upstairs for the winter
coats, the lifting behind the sliding
doors that finally cracked your
heartthat last departure.