Sorry not sorry

First published in Fifteen, Pure Slush vol. 24

20 years together;
and 15 of them married.
6 years living 3 doors down
from a home no longer mine.

5 years since you’ve cleaned the pool,
tea-brown with sunken leaves.
3 years since 2 brothers came
to fix 1 dodgy fence.

3 kids used to swim there,
1 full sun on brilliant blue.
I in shaded mozzie moments
stole a tree-watch float for 1.

Now a rowdy throat-choke chorus
rings that urban desert swamp
whose frog decibels can reach me
3 doors down, shut in for night.

Some 4000 times I’ve passed there,
while on foot or in my car—
that’s 1000 sad-mad sighs or so—
but not today—sorry not, because—

15 fronds of pondweed
I just threw over the fence.
Water cannon of Azolla
and I’m sorry—sorry not.