Un-longing

It scared me.
What the needles talked.
You held on to my knuckles
trying to reach on to the marrow. Through
the scald of the skin.

Monday last. I saw the gold-tinted
alphabets slip through your fingers. For
the first time.

On my hands and knees. Picking up
the letters as they
fell through your nails. There are
things I wouldn't give even
for you---the magic shoe-shine box, tulip
petals flag-red and my lingon-berry ink.

Sometimes when.
You have nothing but your arrogance left,
throwing words out
in the darkness is
the only thing you can do.