Yes, they're gone

the noisy loving clump of them — instant

solitude shoulders in, a single

cup of coffee instead of a pot, cat

in my armpit instead of traipsing here to

there angling for treats — their idea

of moving their life somewhere close

to me — a future possibility so dear

it’s space for humming bees — sixpacks

of ale Ben left, corn chips & chocolate bars

I tucked into Tova’s satchel — leftover

roasted yam & so many ribs

I try to consume before they go by —

barrels full of empties, kayaks stowed

three beds bare until next time