After Resignation

This square room once consumed my days
with you, on its other side
shoving messages, slipping notes
and references under invisible doors.
We barter rumors, scoff at pond-dwellers,
and praise ourselves in this place we name:
The Spread, vast and full and poised.

Set up and blame. Figure out later
after estrangement, and break windows
that block the actual view outside.
Unlock doors, and wander into other rooms.
I see no pond nor puddles,
and we're not vast and full and poised.

This is the land of breath and work,
consumed with giving and taking
and dressing up, putting on applause
from some limelight and the center stage.
Why could you not dress you up?
Can you not falter once, and then triumph
for also just once? It is not about the show.

Before I turned the knob, I traced the keys
into the keyhole of benefits, you saw the
coming resignation, out of The Spread
of transgressions and deceit. You knew I’d
one day flip the covers. Uncover us to be
actually small and empty and tired.
The sprawling land we toil
is a blanket after all.