Leaving

Location

Sealed within that nylon Mason jar

Are Oxford shirts and skinny ties

Huddled flat against each other’s orphaned

Collars, limp buttons, itching uncomfortable

Wrinkles. It lounges belly-up, staring at the

Dark space above – boundless perhaps,

Or maybe a short distance away is a thick

Ceiling, infested with interloping insects.

Half-hanging off its shelf, above dirty laundry,

The towering sworn promise rests. Below

Remnants of a learned past flutter; in

The air of desire the leaves echo. 

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