spine

even a while after he has left

he is in a chair besides me still

a while ago

he should go I wished

I don’t understand how he does tell

and he has been telling what and what

as if he is addicted to some scorching truth

as if his barefooted  ventures are

miles away from what we have learned to be true

he has left and the overcast sky is close to my head

suddenly one in me shouts:

come on again, please! come on once!

I have gathered moments of my utter hesitation –

the deserving flowers of this night

who knows somewhere still remains one

whose spine does not fold

even a while after he has left

he is in a chair besides me still