The Ribbon

I thought she’d taken all her things

But I was wrong. Wherever I go

I catch glimpses of my damnation.

Is that too strong a word? You wouldn’t think so

If you could see this lovely ribbon

Wound around my hand.

Don’t tell me, I know,

I’m mumbling to myself again. I’m like King Kong

Picking among the ruins of New York

For a clue to his misfortune.

I keep wondering what they were like,

These odds and ends,

Collecting dust, though freed at last from blame.

Did they look the same

When she held them in her hand?

It seems ridiculous

How everything here acknowledges her touch,

Including me, including this tangled ribbon.

Perhaps you were right after all

And I make too much of it. I’ll just sit here now

And try to undo these knots –

I’ll be with you in a minute, if you can wait.

-- Hugo Williams