thanks to the roll of construction
I built her two shelves
out of galvanized pipe
and fittings, some spare
and some bought
in the kitchen windowframe
since in our consolidation
for the aim of cohabitation
I hadn't anticipated
the inheriting
of a jungle.
The dangly vines
went on top
and some saplings on the bottom
much to her delight
when she called me
with surprise.
I was equally shocked
when the locks that hung
from the latter
were shorn by the time I'd arrived.
Gone were the natural curtains
I'd installed with the greenest intentions
to block the studio view
of the middle-aged painter
across the three-floor alley.
The clippings sat in a box
near the door
prepped to be ejected
from the home that we're still building.
She said that she wanted
to toss them in the woodline
behind our apartment--
returning them to earth
as opposed to an Albanian dumpster.
Tonight after dinner
I walked the kitchen trash
and went to the bank
while finishing a smoke.
She rounded the corner
as I returned, refuse in hand
true to word as always.
I bent back around the brick
to see if she stepped
to the forest.
