Moving Day
Like an overzealous librarian,
my friend reminds me about
the Clink Black and James Brown
she lent me too many months ago.
"There's no way he's havin them"
She stands over me as I thumb through
the remains of conjugal CDs,
gaps left like broken teeth
in racks bolted to the wall:
places his hands were this morning.
Until today, I took shared bills
and my engagement ring as a promise
we'd live here until one of us died -
grey hairs left on pillows
as after thoughts
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