I wait as l have every year, candle lit, Jessie’s girl on repeat

a bottle of JACKS on the kitchen counter and an empty chair with

your name on it, an old fashioned roast in the oven, the table is

set for two, yet l stand by the window watching the rickety gate

for an older version of you to return, you went for a walk and l never left.

-s.j.duncan-