Nonetheless, morning comes,
as it always does.
I wake before dawn,
into a Ball jar, unaware
that you have left this world
sometime in the night.
The radiator makes a creaking
sound; the phone is silent.
This fumbling, this calm unknowing
is in itself a small corner
of paradise I will recognize
only long after the fact,
when its comfort has moved
elsewhere, and I cannot
hope to enter again.