May 19, 2022

Westward

by Geer Austin

You moved to another state
and I roamed from man to man to woman

from Mulberry Street to West Street
to alphabet streets, past sex workers

on Delancey, where cars rattled and bumped
toward Williamsburg, shaking my bones

while viruses and parasites and bacteria
flirted with my cells. And what I heard

jarred the rocker beat you left behind
your glittery clothing dissonant

synchronicity and departure at odds.
There was no midpoint on our axis.

I thought I knew what mattered
until I didn’t. By then you were gone.