When you go away

I stand by a water cooler. Its upside-down

despondency and crock match the purity

of my melancholy. Think of Akhmatova’s white

stone in the well. That morning you were

dispassionate about Raskolnikov and Pecola,

and pointed to our fingers and their chain of bones

pulling into a trainyard of subway stops. Evidence

of the end of freight, you said. It was pre-spring.

The sadness of melting snow hit me like a film thrown

suddenly in daylight. So, torture the gods.