she builds a nest

If it had been an affair,

she might have left suddenly,

claws snapping shut,

a beating heart clamped inside,

its valve bursting, gasps.

But it's slower-

winter wending into spring,

willow branches drooping,

heavy with snow,

water pooling in the melt,

seasons collecting like leaves

whose damp veins eventually decay.

How he listens less often,

but still, she builds a nest

from stray words,

maybe one day

if only I stay

a tattered woof and warp,

woven without conviction.

How she puts her hand on his,

and whispers softly

as fingers wander

like escape artists,

her breath a song,

its chorus filling the halls

in waves

that eventually

stop coming.