A darker patch behind the shelf
The color I remember
The rest grew pale around it
Summer after summer
My footsteps reach the corners
They never reached before
A trace of lemon on my sleeves
My jacket on the floor
I called it passing through
And kept the boxes taped
But passing through has worn
A hollow where I stayed
A softer shade
Of what I thought would last
Some things lose their color
Some lose their sharpness in the past
I almost called it nothing
Those years I can’t replace
Now everything is leaving
And I can feel its weight
A scratch beneath the table
Two glasses drying clear
The evening lost its edges
Whenever you were here
The rent receipts, the winter coats
The circles left by rain
So much I never counted
Until the outlines stayed
I kept my best things covered
For a life beyond this floor
Now paper slips from porcelain
I’ve never used before
A softer shade
Of what I thought would last
Some things lose their color
Some lose their sharpness in the past
I almost called it nothing
Those years I can’t replace
Now everything is leaving
And I can feel its weight
The future had a cupboard
I kept it out of reach
Behind the doors, unbroken
A life too clean to keep
I lift a plate from paper
Run a finger round the glaze
Nothing grand has happened
But I set it with the things I’ll need today
A softer shade
The wall beneath the years
What used to feel unfinished
Is something I’ll miss being near
I thought these rooms held nothing
That I would want to save
I cannot take their outlines
But I’ve stopped calling them a waste
A key mark on my palm
The stairwell cool and dim
One plate above the others
Ready to be used
Its painted leaves unchanged
Through all the years they waited
Tonight, whatever supper brings
I’ll serve it on that plate
