With Abandon

by Christine Barkley

Melancholy starts the same as always

with a simple wish, formless:

to be anywhere but here. To go

or be gone

(whichever is simpler, leaves me

more formless);

to move along

or against

(as long

as I am far from

following, or staying still);

to be left with a place to miss,

but never to return;

to set that place ablaze

and keep leaving as it burns.

No forwarding address,

no more than one

glance back –

just a reminder

that the rearview

will even make

sunlight through smoke

look like the golden hour;

that anything left behind

will feel like a loss,

even if I couldn’t bring it with me

or didn’t want to

or it was on fire.

(first published in Door is a Jar Magazine, Fall 2022)