“I’m sorry for the words
I used.” His apology
for what he’d done
was one of adultery.
In it, the realization of words
as the constant cleaving of this from
to that, he and she, came in the form of genesis.
Her exodus from the room was not without assurance
Of return, but what was needed was the time and space,
like that between his words
(these words), minute but expansive
in significance, to say “I love you”:
in this simple line, a covenant of successive failure,
an absolving forgiveness.
This is my apology for language.