February, so uncouth, unkind, a month meant for lovers, snowmelt ruddy with stones and wrappers and unclaimed feces. Air thick like a question caught in the throat, a balloon unable to ascend.
Our child’s eyes pull back the covers, tell themselves another story.
The dog paces dyslexic. The blintzes shrivel.
We pause anonymity, swap a swift, witch hazel kiss while your fingers deliver mail, tap-tap-tapping the night stand, spelling out, I’m leaving you.
Len Kuntz is a writer from Washington State and the author of four books, most recently the story collection, This Is Why I Need You, out now from Ravenna Press. You can find more of his writing at https://lenkuntz.blogspot.com.