You Are Dismissed

The world is too much going bye-bye.
Even the fern in the corner is making its exit.
Doors must be shut. That’s what they’re made for.
My toddler at the window waves at every passing
car, then at the empty street, then at the
darkening sky.
                         As I rock her, the books
on her shelves cry–Oh, I will run away so fast
that you will never catch me.
I swear that last I looked there were five little ducks
and now there are only four.
Everything is in a constant state of departure.
I lay my child down. She dreamily lifts an arm
and waves me out the door.