Sits on my dresser
Where you left it
Two years ago
But you had not worn it for years
Though you came and went
Through our door
And we ate at our table
And lived in our house
And loved and raised our child
Your words were often
Scorpion stings
And I recoiled
Away from your embrace
Until finally we parted
I did not mean for us to die.
Barbara Villabol