Note left atop babka

"welcome home."
in handwriting unrecognizable 
that loops backward on itself more times
than not. 
there are chocolate oatmeal cookies
and one last slice of babka. 

the house is colder than 
it's ever been before.

the ice tracked inside 

does not melt. 

unpacking the groceries

means that the soap spilling

all out from its nozzle

and landing across the leaves 

of kale and soaking into them

for five hours or more 

is noticed. and rinsed. 

so many of the magnets

that used to be stuck

right to the front of the fridge

have shifted outward

to the sides or are gone. 

when did this small world

with its empty fruit basket 

decide to go on

without us