after you’d gone

our bodies

uncoupled in the dark

I lay in bed

and started to think of things

that are halved

apples pears

seeds

and the knives that separate them

I thought of doors

half open half closed

their wide

unexpected swings

into the middle of rooms

how they halve distances

I thought of windows

invisible seams

that separate interiors

from exteriors

from where you are

and where you are going

half journeyed

and half way there

I thought of your mouth

in the same breath

the other half of the world

half a shell lying on the beach

its smooth abandoned

chambers

filled half way with sound

half of me listening

half of me not