No Endings—Or, Red Fences

She turns off
movies just before

the last scene, closes
books and shuts off
the light with five pages

left to read. She forgets
the definition of closure—
still talks to exes alive

or dead. Never
celebrates New Year’s Eve
where anyone can see her. Stops

writing a poem without completing
the arc

Saudade Exchange Rate

Let this table not wobble, my coffee
not spill. Let me not offend

an old friend, remember how
to pronounce the name of your hometown

before I get there. Let it not rain
in New York City

Friday night. Let me discover alternative
spellings for closure, stop trying

to recall how you greeted and bid me
farewell—how I loved it so much

I kept it a secret
even from myself. Let me learn

how to write a grant to pay
for all this incurable longing

neither of us could afford.