seven matches

she gave me matches

seven wooden matches

she put them into a small

slim glass jar

with a screw-top lid

i fingered that jar

i put it in my pocket

she said

'can't go into the woods without them'

i smiled at her and left

and i kept them dry

and as long as there were six

i'd be fine

as long as there were five

matches in that jar

mile after mile

on the chick-chick chick-chick sound of the matches

on the memory of her smile

i kept them dry

and as long as there were five

i'd be fine

as long as there were four

matches in a jar

with a screw-top lid

i know she did not mean to hurt my feelings

but that's what she did

and i kept them dry

and as long as there were three

i'd be fine

as long as there were two

matches in that jar