Nobody

Hours at your computer
behind a closed door,
and I
lived like a widow,
mothered a fatherless child,
respected your choice
to close up tighter and tighter
until you seemed to cease
being there at all.
 
Your home office was a ship
that broke free 
from the rest of the house
and sailed off
into scholarly oblivion.
 
Back on land, 
I surely felt enough
for both of us.
My thighs, buttocks, arms
expanded so I could be two
parents and I barely carried on—
bravely, secretly.
 
Nobody but me
knew you were gone,
nobody but me
knew just the moment
I stopped watching
for your return. 

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