something.

[catharsis]

I will not leave until
you look down and away
and I’ll throw your vase
there where you stand
just to
break
it.
I will stand inside your
house.
I will be halfway through
your doorway my toes on
the nails of the floorboard
and we will sway
as on a hinge
and sputtering,
you will berate me
for showing you,
through wet coat-sleeves,
the outdoors.
I will not long
for that word
or wallow inside
your home.
There will be peace
inside of me and
you will remember
my words as you see them
and you will move your door
from a different wall
you will sleep in your garage
because your bed
will taste
like us
and I will then step out
from your doorway,
all of them,
and join the dirt
in its stillness
and you will flutter
gracelessly from
the garage to a
man and he will
take you
and promise you
but he
will stand
in the
door.