by Robert L. Penick
I’m dropping empty cat food cans
into the recycling bin.
There have been a dozen of them
sitting on the kitchen counter
for weeks. The house stinks of them.
I take the garbage outside,
remove your clothes from the dryer,
fold them up and put them on
the dresser. When I wash the dishes
I handle each piece gingerly,
trying not to wake you.
Later I will fill up a basket
with the dirty clothes I find
on the floor. This is not my house
and you are an adult.
We are becoming something other
than lovers.
This poem appeared in Shō Number 2 (2003)