And Did It All Go

 

by Jennifer Moore

 

 

Leave a note pinned

to the lampshade tell me

 

where you’ve been
resting, tell me where

 

in resting

your hair has fallen

 

apart—

in the folds

 

of your thinned sleeve or

along the curve

 

of a thorn

and then tell me how

 

to let this salt go

from its ceiling of air

 

how to unfasten these

buttons and tell me what

 

can you say to an evening

that never leaves