I slam the door. Dear, are you positive
there’s nothing left? Well, no:
something remains, I’m sure of that:
some vestige of our lives in this bare flat
will linger, some impulse will outlive
our going, recycled in the flow
of being. We never leave,
we always have to go.
from I been there, sort of: New and Selected Poems (Carcanet, 2006), copyright Mervyn Morris 2006, used by permission of the author and the publisher.