Thursday, June 18, 2015


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.

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