All these things I know are of no help to me

It is easy when leaving is understood:
      the slammed door       the car starting up
            the driving away and away

Silence yawns because yes it is at once
an expansion and a hollowing out

But there            goes the untranslatable
      note of finality      voice in the key of cold
            mouth like a lock.

Things not working anymore. Sudden walls to surprise you
like an English maze where you realize the wrong turn too late

no amount of running              yes     you
wish you had   a    knife

      The car starts up yes but
      somewhere else down the
      street, where surely other
      people in this world know
      where they are going, yes,
      having been there before,
      in possession of a map
      just in case

While you are still here, yes, mouth like a lock,
and my thoughts are feverish hands at the door

How is it that we are face to face but elsewhere entirely,
one of us must be dead, you turn toward me
when once you were turned away yes but
you with your knife you yawn instead

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