Sevenling (The day before his leaving)
The day before his leaving the sky grieved—weeping in fits,
a mallard paced the pond in her watery way, a crowd of cattails
milled about wagging velvet fingers. Wistful at his leaving
I planned my amnesia: Forcing myself to forget the shape
of his feet in my hands, the sound they made crossing the
floor toward me, the weight of his foot resting on mine as we slept.
Not able to get warm, I will wear his socks to bed.