Yet Another Way to Move Out

You hung a tiger from your jeep's rear view 
mirror and a spring wreath from the door
and left his workboots on the stoop

for months.  You suspended silence
on the steps as we passed and your quiet
of arrival succumbed to your quiet

of regret.  You hung out on the porch
down on Edisto and gazed out on waves
as you dangled at the first step into life

When your father loaded your wreath left
on the stairway rail, you departed
and a lone boot choked out your note