A yellow envelope holding all our hope
Hurts in reaching sense to future sights.
Feel the twisting paper burn in ardent
ache for carpets, roads, and kitchens past.
Knotted floors I know through my bare feet
Folded tight, escape the closing clouds
crescendo to the turning out of time
traced into the edges of the light.
Let water drip from sodden sleeves -
skinned tea-towels dampen over cupboard doors.
Daylight stretched scrub clean in evening scent,
See the sky blush raw for both our cheeks.
Crisp winter-fresh and redness ripening soft
Silent clothes drip tangled to the floor -
Fresh shift in night, a darkness left to bare
before the morning shouts us out of sleep.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 3:20 AM UTC
A redwrapped
foil held
biteful chocolate
heart
stashed in a yellow envelope
with handwriting that could be yours
on the outside.
For me.
It held more than --
It held clean kitchen counters
with crumbs swept daintily under appliances.
Gritty granules of yesterday hastily moved
to make more time.
Of clean floors,
wooden,
- for the bare feet -
and shoes, helterskelter -
I did always intend to leave them tidy, but shoes have lives of their own
it seems.
- Never leave slippers in a cupboard,
you don't know what they might do
unattended --
I said.
Of wet sleeves
and damp tea towels
skinned over cupboard doors
with that scrubbed-clean
thoroughly-made-pink-from-the-evening scent.
washwet clothes dripping
but crisp new towels hanging hot
winter-fresh bedding
clothes always tangled on the floor
- for who has time to sort out socks when the body missing for months has finally come and bags are down toes out and hot water soap and hands together wet hair clean ready for cool shifting pillows and arms of dry towels -
before sun cuts skin and breakfast shouts in the morning.
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 1:51 AM UTC