Martin Willitts, Jr.
The last time he left the summer,
he shuttered the cabin on schedule,
always forgetting at least one thing —
they were always forgetting something,
whether by accident or on purpose,
one could hardly say —
this year, it was the porch light,
which would flicker and fade
On the way back, they got lost
on a detour, missed the sign,
his wife fell asleep
in the nape of sunlight
like a school-girl crush,
Now he had the hard decision —
close the cabin? Return
to something that might sadden him?
Could he let go? Why should he
when the indented, ingrained memory
of her was imbedded in his arm
like a road map to yesterday?
Some say, the heart is the first to go —
but he would tell you, it is the last.
Martin Willitts, Jr. has authored 13 poetry chapbooks and three full length poetry collections.