Departure
by John Calvin Hughes

Last night,
coming from dark bars,
from the closeness of strangers,
coming home late again,
the door was open:
the floor was peppered thick with rice:
patterns of splayed places
in that grainy carpet
where the polished maple
shone through: skidding footprints.

The parakeet was greenly gone,
the wire door torn down;
the bird ranges the wind
from tedious curse and praise.

The refrigerator stood open:
inside the cool white cube,
the bulb, the empty racks.

The cat bowl tipped,
gray milk linoleum halo,
bone-chipped spill.

She has freed the small appliances:
ascended to junk
they are utterly broken.
The cat high-steps among the ruins.

John Calvin Hughes has published poems, stories, and criticism in numerous magazines and journals. He is the author of The Novels and Short Stories of Frederick Barthelme, a critical study from the Edwin Mellen Press. He lives and works in Florida.

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