~BOB WATTS~

MAP OF THE UNKNOWN WORLD

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The instant that she turns,
    he sees, in what could be
        relief or just a pain

too fresh to recognize,
    something that wasn’t there
        the times she left before,

a certainty in fingers
    splayed against the door
        with nothing of regret,

only a beckoning
    to what the darkness holds
        beyond the painted porch

and pale grey stretch of walk
    washed open in the spill
        of light across the lawn,

and in her eyes, the fall
    of shadow over them
        enough to keep concealed

what she is looking toward,
    but not to hide the ease
        with which they turn from him.

© by Bob Watts