Stay Here

your mother/the matriarch
leaves her new husband after three springs
she couldn't stand to be with him
after you died 

a similar mutation burrowed into my
newish romance
we call it disappointment/roaming anger

the matriarch texts me to get your
Samsonites filled with flight attendant possessions
so she can get on the road in 12 hours

I recall her men: the country one,
the one of her youth, the one who made you
they each made her grind her teeth
until it was time to leave

I unzip side pockets and closed cavities
that when packed signal you are away or ready to be away
I go slowly so I can gaze at framed photos of her new/ex husband
I keep a brush and a bracelet that you touched days before
I close the luggage, a mouth no longer agape

Why end at all?
can we slide smoothly into our anger
dying each time we say, Yes I will fall in love again. Then leave our carry-ons
in other rooms once
         the love is too good to stay here.