Break Up
       

State, you have been reckless with my heart
and these endings hurt. I cannot trust again
your wheedling face and pillow talk.

What about those honey days?
Those tended gardens and bread for all?
State, I feel like a fool.

I trusted you and you sold my walking shoes
to someone who only taxis.
So thanks.

State, I've killed the children we would've had together
and buried them with my passport.
Don't call.

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Copyright © 2017 Jody Porter All rights reserved
from New Boots and Pantisocracies
Smokestack Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission