A piece of the accent wall
is different from the others.
The color so subtle
most do not notice.

Tapping for sound, we
found hidden nails
showing hidden structures
and drew lines down them.

Pretending to know, I
measured and marked while
you stained. Pickled White
they called it (our fourth choice).

(We both know
there is a kind
of comfort
in making).

After, a mermaid touching naked knees,
more water (you said),
with burnt clinching toes.
Knee to knee we both tried to be seen

And fail, the varnish sticks all too closely—
What truth is truth
that too often quails?
I wanted us to be connected there.

Like the time we cleaned, and
you showed me the dog hair,
collected, on the floor. There was
never a time I loved you more.

But now I cinch, and hold, and wait.
Did we always guess it was going to fail?
We both know there is a kind of comfort
in making.