The frost lies lightly, slowly melts,
and the driveway becomes visible.
A transformation easy to comprehend
unlike your changing from loving to not.
Where does the frost go? Into the hungry air.
What does it know of hunger? I'm lost
in a map that can't tell north from south
I know you've gone south, though I'm not good
with directions. I gaze at the damp asphalt
and think of what they'll say, but it's not fair.
"Their relationship has gone south"
I hold a wet fingertip up to the breeze.
It tells me nothing. Even the bedding
is gone, the silverware, the cat.
Gone South by Alec Solomita | Sandalwood Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
$20.00Price
