Afterward

You were so sick that

afterward on that first

nice day, I meant to say,

“I can’t bear to lose you,”

but what spilled out was,

“Why do you have to

go to that tonight?”

You dug in. I tried to

explain. Like two cats fall-

ing off the kitchen table, we

scrapped and hissed and sput-

tered the whole way home.

You stared out the window

and I wanted to say that

sometimes to be here at all

feels so barely tethered to

storms beyond our control,

that what matters most

seems piled on a raft

between us; untied and

drifting slowly out of reach.

Later, I dozed on the couch

and you kissed the scar on my

head, and we fell through our

sorries like butterflies chasing

a sudden patch of light.