To Part
The art of distance isn’t hard to master;
most greetings seem so empty of intent
loss of a kiss or two is no disaster.
Ditch someone every day. Accept the fluster
of hurt neighbours, the energy unspent.
The art of distance isn’t hard to master.
Then practice fleeing farther, shunning faster:
friends, and family, and who it was you meant
to love again. No one will bring disaster.
I dodged my mother’s ghost. And look! her mask, and
face, both vanished as she went.
The art of distance isn’t hard to master.
I hid from children, loved ones. And, later,
from people I once knew across the continent.
I forgot them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even avoiding you (the phony voice, an email
now and then) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of distance is not too hard to master
though it may sound like (Say it !) like disaster.