Absent Friends

by

Jude Marr

easy for me to leave

with lines unsaid—

 

leave a loaned key

brass-bold

on a nightstand

with a note that explains

nothing

 

leave on a whim

in a cab

after breakfast or dinner

or in between

arguments

 

leave behind a book

already read or a sweater

with holes too big

to fit in a single bag—

 

and when I overnight

airside, or in an alien

motel, I may recall

Don Quixote

or hear again a speech

of Vladimir’s and wonder

if you’re cold—

 

or I may fall

asleep as easily

as I grow old.

 

<span style="color: #222222;">J<em>ude Marr has an MFA from Georgia College. Her work has appeared in </em></span><em>The Cortland Review<span style="color: #222222;"> </span>r.kv.ry<span style="color: #222222;">., and </span>Black Heart Magazine<span style="color: #222222;">, among others</span><b style="color: #222222;">. </b><span style="color: #222222;">She reads for </span>WomenArts Quarterly Journal<span style="color: #222222;"> and she is an assistant editor at </span>Ghost Ocean<span style="color: #222222;">.</span></em>