Until next time I come home again,
and you peep no longer through the window pane,
watching the birds perch on the fence,
watching the water collect down the chain,
and you call no longer for our table food
or through the gap of door and frame
to be let in and sleep beside me,
I will not coo or say your name.
On tabletops and open drawers,
On suitcases agape you lay,
Under the earth and the birds and bats,
I’ll see you on another day.