We wake at dawn and rub our eyes and get on with it.
The child in our bed greets us with smiles
And that is
enough for now.
We greet at doors and smile through pain
Lest a
child feel the heavy.
And the child shall not feel the heavy.
Heavy was not part of the vows but we feel it.
And we are doing ok.
Our backs have grown strong from carrying the years
And we no
more must draw from
The well of
eyes that gave us drink at the first.
Oh the first.
Those blest
days
That built
the floor on which this house is laid.
The young walk the floors without the truth.
They walk. We scrub.
We keep the floor clean and private.
That is our floor.
We built it with row boats and wine and sex
With planes
and rings and moves from norms
With care
and pace our floor took form
Where wee
feet now tread with dirt.
So much dirt.
And we try to keep it like new
But any man can tell that the floor is not new.
(I think I saw a tiny
bit of shit on the steps.)
I got a rag and sprayed that shit
And now it looks like it did one day ago.
In those spaces where the shit is clean
The floor shows us a new space to shine.
(in a small way I am
glad for the shit)
for socks and toes shall gild the floor.
We walk our floor at the end of our day
And we climb to those pools of eyes
That held us at the first.
The floor is there but we lie above it.
In the light we will go back to our rags
But the soft of thread and skin are just fine for now.
The child falls into the peace of sleep and so do I.
We are ok.
