Goodbye at the start of summer | after Maggie Nelson for You

Last night you came to me in a dream and you said, I’m sorry for letting a good thing die.

As if you hadn’t been the one warm hand around my throat.

I believe you.

Today I woke to the silent sky blue of jays, and the song moving the trees

was my own.

You said, I want to make it as easy as possible for you to come back.

I appreciate that.

I walked out into a bright violet color and it was warm, no wind coming in

off the water.

a field of cotton— as if the moon had flowered

only a drawing of a labyrinth, only the moon's pull

The sky as always undecided gray, opening, closing— slack mouth of forgiveness, of apology.

To a Departing Companion

Only now I see that you are the end of spring cloud passing across the hollow of the empty bowl not making a sound and the dew is still here

quite generous. It knows something we don't,

Imagine being brushed by the air enough times. Imagine you're unrecognizable.

.

He closed the door. January bit through the walls.

The bed kept the warmth seventeen minutes, then none. No witness but the sheets.

I thought I stayed.

I inventoried the fridge. The cream had turned. I was late to the news of myself.

I didn't starve. I just never came back to the table.

Even hunger has standards.

I left later, quiet enough that the air forgot me. I went the way women go who survive too long.

Afterward I moved through the rooms without arriving. I loved like a light you forget to turn off.

when everything else fell away you brought me back to show me how easy it is to fall