splittings

Were you to leave,
I’d fly to New York
And walk the streets we might have walked at dawn
Breathing the stuffy sick subway mist ascending from the grilles
As if to fill my lungs with your dead skin cells.

Were you to leave,
I’d close my eyes and remain unmoving
Among thousands of people measuring in motion
The aching seconds that’d tick your life away from me.
In my icy-cold stillness, hibernating in full sensual awareness,
The knowledge of loss ripe in my womb-
Our child’s non-existence scarring my insides.

Were you to leave,
I’d sit at crossroads
Taking in the city’s energy
Communicating with, making love to, devouring Absence
Transforming the instantaneous into the eternal,
As can be done only in times like these

And then I’d go and buy myself a new bound leather phone book
Write you disconnected number down
And pretend I can still call it


And if my body were to be found bloated
Floating in the Hudson
It’s you they’d try to call
Your number being my single identifying feature