Next Poem by Allan Thorne

I circle my apartment,
In a stupor,
Garbage bag in hand,
Trying to remove all evidence
Of our failed love;

A sock with sand in it
From that day at the beach,
An earring,
Your picture in an ornate frame,
A pair of underpants
That no longer smell like you.
A half used chap stick.

I throw out the extra toothbrush.
I keep your love letters.
I put them in a yellow envelope
Marked, “RADIO ACTIVE”.
I put it in the back of a deep drawer
For later,
Much later,
For who knows what the half-life of love is?
I change the sheets.

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