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Idiot Glider

de sunday museum

She folds her arms up nicely
Lays them down Upon the table
Wipes her mouth off as she
Tries to find another word for love
She hangs her skin up by the
Window looks to see that all the
Doors are open
The She sits alone and
Wonders where you've gone
I counted your lingering
I counted time between thunder
And lightning
I counted into silence, counted chickens,
Counted sheep, counted 1,2,3,4,5,6,7...
Upstairs she hears the space
Between the words you never said
She licks the tiny stone she gave herself
And swallows all her worry
Won't you leave me forever, won't you leave
For good?

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