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.