Alone for a Week

I washed a load of clothes
and hung them out to dry.
Then I went up to town
and busied myself all day.
The sleeve of your best shirt
rose ceremonious
when I drove in; our night-
clothes twined and untwined in
a little gust of wind.

For me it was getting late;
for you, where you were, not.
The harvest moon was full
but sparse clouds made its light
not quite reliable.
The bed on your side seemed
as wide and flat as Kansas;
your pillow plump, cool,
and allegorical. . . .

Jane Kenyon, "Alone for a Week" from Collected Poems. Copyright © 2005 by the Estate of Jane Kenyon. Reprinted by permission of Graywolf Press.
Source: Collected Poems (Graywolf Press, 2005)
More Poems by Jane Kenyon