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.