'cold trace'

we left
both our mugs
by the edge
of the glass,

un-washed,
un-remembered,
minutes
collapsing

— a pale double ring
where coffee dribbled
the fridge's song
the town's grey noise.

— warning absent
silence loud
no time left
no key in hand

but for a flash
brake light blaring

the turn of the sea
your coat on the chair
where shadows remain

grease on the panes
a clock on the wall
ticking hard
ticking out
ticking down
leaving nothing at all.

.