Things You Leave

Molly Barrett

I seem to leave a trail of bobby pins After me wherever I go It used to make you angry; Yousaid, “Howcansomeonepossiblylosethismany?” And I laughed it off and blamed it On my huge mass of tangled hair But the worst part, you told me, Wasfindingtheminthecornersofyourroom, In the folds of your sheets, In the blank space next to your keyboard Reminding you of where I’d been When you knew I would never be Those places Any more.