4.16.25

Listening to the wind, I hoped to hear proof of your existence. I turned towards the dark and walked with my eyes closed towards the door. I thought you were on the other side. The country leaving me and being left. From inside the body I listened for more. What was promised to us, then. Faith, the law, and some small certainty of a future. Walking home in the rain I remembered you. On the steps was a single feather, damp with dew, pressed into the cement. Memory has taken everything from me recently. When I try to recall, my whole body fills with exhaustion instead of words. I stepped over the feather. Since then, I've asked nobody else what they thought it could have meant.