Looking out the back door
I see you in our hammock,
hardback novel jammed in beside you, splayed open
but your eyes are on your phone

I want to tell you I just nailed up the artwork we bought
together, when we were talking like normal humans
sitting on the cracked steps, discussing
space and Sufi mystics and our big oak tree

I suppose I could bring out our old habits:
cheddar cheese, and those purple wine glasses
we got at the flea market, but you
will tell Tuesday’s therapist we have nothing to talk about, anyway.

I step to open the garbage can
and throw your sunflower seeds for planting
inside.

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Copyright 2022, SashaS