If you return,
do not knock,
the door has memorized your hands.

If you leave,
do not turn back,
the wind carries only forward.

She felt the weight of his words
Even as she waved a hand to dismiss them
Even as she smiled
And rolled her eyes
Even as she turned away
Bounce-stepping down the hall
She felt the full meaning of his words
Crushing her into the ground
Into dust



© 2025 Joan Zaruba. All rights reserved.

I never asked
for tomorrow
I think
That was you

I have nothing to give—
no love,
no empathy,
no forgiveness.

Only polite consideration—
please turn the page
to another poem.

Fences fail quietly—
in a slow tilt
colors give way
surrendering—
a silent retreat
from brown to brittle.

I press a finger
catch the rough
edge of metal
its dust scratching my skin—
years thin us
like coins drowned
in riverbeds.

It goes this way
I think—
a long fade
grit slipping
into dark water
turning to mud
just enough to remember
we once held on.

And I wonder if we, too
were made to loosen
to dissolve—
no shards or splinters
just a long sigh—
as time corrodes
at our hearts
turning all we were to rust.

when you went away
to join the war
i made a bracelet for you

(rose quartz
labradorite
and jet)

and when you returned,
you gave it back

much to my dismay

but now
the bracelet
is on my wrist
everyday

to remind me
about
what you gave away