A Disconnect

by Robyn Sarah

If I knew how, I’d tell you
how different it was for me:
you burst in, full of the morning,
jaunty, sun in your eyes;
I glanced outside and saw only
disorder, in this early melting.

Don’t be surprised if I tell you:  go now.
Don’t linger by the door, or task your head
to ask or guess at what might be the matter.
Call it a mood.
I need to turn my hands to something slow now,
pot some young plants, sew buttons on a sweater.

— from Juniper Volume 3, Issue 1