Gone To Seed

Like Penelope, each home I weave
is soon unpicked.
It is difficult to live young
and uninterrupted in this city
when you are pushed to new places,
your relationships as sudden and consuming
as algal blooms, as delicate
and brittle.

I can’t say we’ll meet again;
a fact we spent weeks with.
We hoped knowing would be enough
to turn our aches lukewarm
like tea left too long to cool.
When I hesitate at the door
you tell me heartbreak is a fever,
that I need to starve
to break it.