I, too, felt anxious, and snared—
so when I left the house
I didn’t wave goodbye,
didn’t look you in the eye.
I knew I would not come back
to that room, that sound of stars
crashing against the window mesh,
that color of loss sword-flashing silver
in the dark hall. I couldn’t take you
with me. I couldn’t take all
those bruised scraps. Just try to rest, Mother,
rest against the fence. I’ll hold you
here from outside.