The Kitchen

It was nice to have you in the kitchen And not the war torn bedroom Cursing with your eyes closed
It wasn’t about the coyotes, Obviously.
I know what’s rough, And it was mine,
And on that same day,

A girl exited swiftly through my chest And disappeared into a thin grey line
Also mine, But,
In the still moments that followed, As sky bled into sea,
I heard her whisper beneath the wind:
No, this is you. And she was gone.
So you see,
I wasn’t asking
If you thought they could see us Through the kitchen window,
Of course they saw us, They are dogs with fangs.
It was a question one asks And knows how to answer But asks anyway
Because for a man like you, She wants to love herself, And because she can’t
She leans in,
Childlike,
Like a girl who’s vanished,
And points into darkness.