Going Rogue

I thought when I left the house
this morning
That I would find you sitting
beneath the Silk Wood tree–
waiting for me to apologize
yet again.
How silly that thought!
Especially after I bound up
in words all of my anger
and disappointment in you
just the other night.

And I think I was told to assume
radio silence…no, I was told to assume
radio silence. But I, being the one who
chose the oboe, moved overseas,
left the man of my dreams
for the security of a more predictable
lover only to be lashed
into silence, I am no longer likely
to sit around and wait for you
to call. I see the glaring errors
of my ways–the sad attempts
at connection, the longing for
a friendly voice. But I don’t

think I did you wrong.

Despite it all, I will think
of you fondly even though it was
you who said goodbye.

And then, when I saw

that you are not there–

I did something I have
not done in many years, even decades:
I went  to sleep tonight before midnight,
And in that sleep I dreamt that you
came home at dawn; I dreamt
that I nodded as if to say,
“Welcome home. I have missed
you.”

I dreamt it all tonight before midnight.

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