Viciously, then
I lock the door
to the applause
of retreating footsteps.
A scattering of chairs
loiters the room,
each imprinted with
the person they held.
In silhouette, their
outstretched arms
seem to
beg forgiveness.
As the hall fills
with midnight
and a fragment of music
escapes from the street,
The chairs circle like wolves
around me.
The nearest containing
all of your absence.
