Saturday without you

1.

I come back home from work,

Knowing
that you are away,
But wishing, nevertheless,
That you are there –
Waiting for me.

But of course,

You are gone
To a clinic somewhere,
And the apartment
Is silent.  

I switch on a lamp,

Change my clothes,
And pour myself a glass of wine.

A dozen pink peonies

drink water
on the east windowsill.

A violent wind

Percusses.

I finish my glass

Walk over to the kitchen
Sit on the floor
And meditate for twenty minutes –
Listening to a recording
On Quiet Lotus.

It ends with the words,

Love yourself.

I don’t.

I cannot.

I pour myself another;

            The sound of refill,

A new acquaintance,

And read

from an anthology of ocean poems.

It feels comforting,

Relaxing, even.

But then I scream.

The neighbor, Jon,

knocks.

Are you okay?

            Are you okay, Tom?

I keep quiet,

Holding onto your toothbrush –

Feeling,

The remnants of your breaths,
Circle around my fingers
Like a ring.

Eventually,

he leaves.

I hear his footsteps

Disappear.
 
I leave a voicemail
On your answering machine
I love you, Babe
And go to sleep.