I See My Death Tonight
I See My Death Tonight
in the way
your woman scent
has gotten trapped
in the micro-gravity
of my emptied bed,
in the way—lungful
by lungful—I fall
victim to it
as I stand
in the window watching you
not look back
as you leave, watching you
walk away
with that same smooth,
predatory swagger
I’ve carried
in my own hips
as I walked away—
from empty beds
and watchful windows—
a thousand nights
before.
from the collection “We Call This Thing Between Us Love”
I’m loving “predatory swagger.” Wonderful stuff here.