Hanging comfortably
across white wire frame
tapered end kissing my bedspread,
the other waiting for brass clips,
both ends missing patiently
your neck.
Silk-brown accessory
remnant of our guesthood
at the reception, first
formal dinner together, first
time skirting around family,
first time you let stay here
something of yours
after I said I liked it and
why don’t you keep it on.
It waits austerely
in the middle of a room
exploding with hats, scarves,  
bracelets, earrings, pantyhose,
dresses for all occasions.
I have no place for it except
this spot in the center
of the chaos where we
see each other every day.

It is unlike you to be forgetful.
You know I have no use
for a tie except
as a reminder of you.
Just a thing, a prop.
You don’t mind
when I use it to wrap myself
elegantly around you
the next time you visit this room,
always welcome and always
too long in between.



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