before one of us leaves the house to boomerang around this glass and metal world, the husband and I press lips   something to chaperone the other till they return with a bounce through the back door   for us, a kiss carries the affection of goodbye and a cloak of protection to arrive home safely   call it superstitious but fate can deliver the cruelest surprises   at least our way the last thing one leaves with the other, is a damp impression of love

there are days we really miss and days we’re delighted to see go   that’s the trail we each have, sections that left scars from brambles and bushes   and portions we loved to walk and still re-walk, pulling weeds and snapping branches to keep clear   we add benches to those places to sit when we’re old   places the moon loves to light when it sees we need help remembering   or   when one more dawn is just too far away

therapist and I, two strangers address the autopsy of a life lying on a table, long and wide   scalpels sharp, the slices deep blood needing blotting, together, we cut deeper   past the scars of old injuries around bullets lodged in the past all the way to my earliest years   when skin was soft and pressable, bruised dark purple and emotions were too afraid to open their mouths   my issues - anger and control upset, at times, with what I can’t control, dismayed every time, at