qarrtsiluni

As the wall of fire comes my way, I’ll grab a long look
at plants I grew from starters, twigs I propagated into blooms.

I’ll listen for the music of the living room when the ceiling drummed
and we danced to Van Morrison in our empty space.

I will take the wrinkles and rumples of life happening,
the worn parts of the sheets and the towels.

I will take the smells of the sea blowing through,
while our showers ran down the drain, and our hair shampooed.

I will take the building’s noises, pipes full of water and creaking steps,
and glowing red dots on electronic devices.

On my way out, I will take you arriving at the door for me,
take you ringing the doorbell with flowers for me.

On the way out, I will take my willingness to leave all this behind.
I will run naked into my next life.

by Janet A. Baker

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