I ran away with all your love --
filled my pockets,
cupped my hands to catch it,
poured what I could
in the curls of my hair
and my morning, afternoon,
and evening mug --
"Call Your Mother"
it says.
You laughed at me,
playing in the arc and splash
of your love,
like the children
who play in the fountain
in the Park on Queen Street
in the summers,
the ones we said
we wanted to be like.
and then I ran --
mug and pockets and hair
arms and eyes
full of what you gave so freely.
