I should have dated losers

I should have 
dated losers

people 
who would eventually
slip through the cracks
into near or complete 
oblivion

who wouldn't turn up 
in newspapers 
unless arrested 
or in death notices
read by no one 
but those waiting 
to die

who would disappear
even from memory
face forgotten
footprints erased
invisible

as if - unlike you -
they never were.

love left, III

I am practicing 
being left

today 
I won't say anything

tomorrow
I won't feel anything

soon enough
I won't even know

you are a poem

you are not defective
you are not a body bag
you are not an embarrassment
you are not your political position
you are more than an aspen
you are kinship with trees
you are existential joy
you are a poem

love left, II

what do you do
when love
leaves?

like leaves falling from a tree
all too suddenly and all too slow
and you are 

left

the station is an empty echo
the train is gone
the dust motes dance no more

you wait
your waiting
is not waiting for

you wait in silence, in stillness
the blood roars in your ears
heartbeats hoof-beats in the dust

you will not leave

love left, I

when those
you love leave,

they are suddenly
everywhere -

step out, turn left
there they are!

right behind you,
oh they're there!

on the balconies
under the stairs

up on hoardings
everywhere

you can barely
take a step

for tripping over
some love left

or stumbling into
love that's left

when those
you love leave