The hanger swings silently, empty

of your oversized corduroy jacket,

from the inside of our bedroom door.

You wear it cause you’re cold.

 

A sign and its shadow out the front window,

A stretch of unparked curb,

Six bare shoulders, two watches refracting light,

You, within the shelter, hands inside your sleeves.

A bus stops.

 All my clothes fit neatly

in three brown suit cases.

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-is-just-to-say/