Epidural

My legs feel like someone else’s.Touching my knee is like touching

an island on a map.How am I supposed to know

when he is leaving me?I am supposed to control it, I think,

this push of one body from anotherand I do and you come sliding out.

I should have known when he askedwhy I was crying.

The new boy on my chestdidn’t seem the obvious answer.

I love him more than you—was what he wanted me to say.

And I could have. Over and over.Leave us, I should have said.