Pattern

I don’t know what the ignition was

in childhood

that catapulted

my attachments

interpreter

stabilizer

fixer

I learned early

how to read absence

as if it were a language

The pattern repeats itself

in different names

I once called mine

same distance

same return to silence

I recognize it sooner now

the way it begins

how quickly I start listening

for what isn’t said

how silence asks

to be explained

I answer anyway

We were always in motion

boxes half-opened

goodbyes already practiced

I carry it like luggage

always half-packed

always ready to leave

or be left

Some things never stay

long enough

to finish unpacking

this time

I notice

how quickly I reach for the zipper

and I stop

Hotel Room (1931) by Edward Hopper