It was warm
it was warm
it was warm
it was warm in bed and as usual
you had fallen asleep before me
I stared and
drifted off
eyes heavier than breathing
muscles slowly releasing
it was calm
and I woke up
with a start
I finally remembered
where I had put the poem
the one I
read to you
the one you said you liked
the one I said I liked too
the one I
thought was
lost forever in the garbage
was in the recycling box
the recycling box
was outside in
the -10 degree evening
awaiting the next morning
I told you
it didn’t matter
turned to go back to sleep
you got up and got dressed
it’s your
only copy,
you said, put on your coat
and boots, and left our apartment
you came back
is this it, you asked
going through the contents
is this it, is this it, is this it
this is it
you brought the box
back outside, having found the
poem about how you don’t love me
ERK 2010
