The things you left have become relics
of our love. You were surgical
about returning my belongings,
all at once and neatly.
Meanwhile I keep
the jar you filled with whiskey
that we brought to the winter market,
meanwhile one of your socks is mingled
in with mine in the drawer,
meanwhile the microwave stays at
1:17 from the morning you warmed
your coffee after it sat.
Where do I keep it all, the things
that belonged only to us?