to leave a lover

in summer you built a house in the place 

where we first met, where foolish boys 

weave through the mountains and each of their rivers, 

greedy hands flailing in attempts to catch 

silvered herrings. they boys move on from fish eventually, 

now trying to catch girls in their touch-starved arms. 

you, proud, name yourself the king of this game. i 

say nothing; you always complain that too many opinions 

come from a mouth made for biting 

and kissing and sucking. silently i pity each feminine body 

trying to escape calloused hands 

and my waist remembers how it contorted trying to avoid you. 

a boy falls into a waterfall and you, drunk, drool curses. 

i, jealous, watch as the girl he trailed exits her pond, 

wrapped in linen sheets, and flutters into a dove’s nest. 

bird feathers materialize at my feet – the ugly kind. 

it has been winter too long, i decide. 

that night when you fall asleep, reeking of crab apples

and spoiled wine, i gently untangle our limbs 

and teach my legs how to stand again 

without you by my side. 

the mountains fade and i watch the sky 

bleed my sins onto evanescing peaks

before i go.