after the party
dim light
streams through the window
the sun is thinking about rising

the chair you were in
is already cold
it looks so empty
it looks so forlorn

the house still smells unfamiliar
faintly of your scent
faintly of the liquor
still soaking into the tablecloth

the clock in the basement
chimes five times
muffled by
the blanket i am lying in

muffled by the roomful of
discarded wrapping paper
and a plaid scarf
that someone forgot

was it yours?
will you come back to get it?
will it bother you if i slept with it?
will it bother you if i cried into it?