on the floor.
should i be worried?
it's not mine.
maybe at last she made
good on her promise
of leaving this world.
is it time to say,
clean up on aisle six?
or is she still curled up
in a ball in the dark
room, chattering on
about something
that happened to her
fifty years ago.
then i see the can of tomato
juice, turned over.
i breathe a sigh of relief.
honey, i'm home,
i yell up the stairs.
do you need some more
alone time?
i'll boil the kale
and put the salmon on.
No comments:
Post a Comment