Issue 14

You’ve outgrown me
like I’ve outgrown you,
the way children
turn from their fishbowls
to something entirely different,
entirely new from age—
away from every pet parakeet
who lay her tiny eggs
balled up in that terrible corner
where we smiled at her struggle
to keep life going:
I’m out of your life like that.
I’m out of your life
just the way I wanted to—
as both entrance and exit—
where love was like the tiny animal
that kept our eyes bright for awhile,
then died off simply because it had to. . .
And the memory still hangs
somewhere in the clouds, pleasant,
but without a face.