Bony Hands

I left her bed as quickly and discreetly as words

Slithering between the nostrils of a card cheat

As an excuse, an apology

And hopped spinelessly down the steps to the street

Past strangers who can smell her on my lapel like whiskey

They don’t know me, they just know what I do

They don’t know where I’m going, they just know where I go

Round the corner and I’ll be someone else

Another set of bony hands in thick jacket pockets

Eyes welded to the concrete

Shoes gathering snow at the curb

Waiting to cross