wringing dishwater and tears out
of the towel, soap flushing down the drain
and a sink full of heartache.

did you make her, break her?
this post-it love, restickable
and crumple-up disposable--
just scribbled out on a momentary
fantasy: you never called back,
you never showed up. but you were always

sorry,
and then gone.

she's been praying so much lately,
you can tell by the holes in the knees of her jeans.