I’m in the bathroom
Scrubbing out a small white plastic trash can
Scratched on the outside
Yellowed on the inside
We’ve both been in this house
For 28 years.

Ani DiFranco is singing
F*ck You and your untouchable face
And I’m thinking about how often
I’ve sung along in frustration and kinship
Me and my uncanny skill
Of making things appear
As I think I wish them to be.

I’ve thought so often
That he held himself tauntingly close
But folded arms
Closed eyes
And I, ungrateful wretch
Unmitigated gall, all that.

Conjuring the warmth of his palm
To the tremble in my fingertips
Who was hostage?
Who was negotiator?

Rinsing the last suds from the bottom
I think that sallow dour aged yellow
Is comfort.
Is a sunrise.