I drank your tea, thank you

I drank all your tea, thank you

and then started on the half jar of beans in the fridge

after that I examined the old head of lettuce, deciding that some things are worse than you not being here

so no

I did not eat the lettuce

but I will spread your margarine on my toast in the mornings even though I hate margarine and it's deadly

I will use the soap that I don't need

I'll sweep up your dust hating to see it go

wash your bed clothes with melancholy

shelve your Sylvia Plath

move the heaters back where they belong

surreptitiously checking just in case for some sign 

you didn't to want to leave

something for me

so I would know you didn't regret

I understand

You regret

Each last of everything will be a last of you

until the last clove of garlic

the last drop of honey