A special offer

Gone boy, what can I say 
about you to my friends 

over drinks? 

That I walk this house making sounds

that become your name? 

That I pull on my own hair?

That I'm startled awake,

my mouth chewed by ants, my throat 
sore from their scratching? 

What can I say? 

What can they say?

Silenced in pity as I think of you 
rusting barefoot on our bed 
so I talk of Macy's special offer, 
this new cologne I'm wearing, 

its bright scent bursts from my handbag 

like confetti.