with a broom, you sweep
the lint of her, the hair,
the shoe, the sock left
behind, a photo torn in half
of her and you.
slowly you move what's
left to the center
of the room. the backing
of an earring,
a brush, shampoo, a bottle
of perfume. into the dust
pan two years go,
into the bag, out to curb,
then you slap your hands
against one another.
you start anew.
Saturday, February 28, 2015
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