don’t worry
about the trash in your yard
it’s not
from my yard
it’s from all the thoughts
that heap up
in the middle of the storm
whirling
with a gig of their own

I made mine coffee

I made you tea with lemon
honey
because I heard you cough
in the shower, and
that is what we do

the honey
an unexpected sweetness
after clouds of humid
yesterdays
it is so hard to see you

sleep interrupted twice
barking dogs
and twice as nice
an early morning garbage
hauler

paring knife, and
melon ball-er cutting
through the heat
with the precision
of one who knows
what is needed

1932

I stir  the slurry of water and coffee grounds
and you are there
deaf and dumb-
slicing the mold off the vegetables
I throw them into the soup
cutting last years t-shirts into rags
to scrub the windows

I swallow the placebo like a good girl
playing along
someone removes another block, and
I keep smiling while I fall to pieces
telling a joke I heard on the bus
laughter instead of sunset
coloring my sky

Mid-week stomp

Wednesday wakes up and walks on my face
twenty minutes before my alarm goes off
I cover my head from the sun, swearing
at him for opening the drapes so early

Wednesday spills coffee grounds on the counter
and I feel them under my socks
moving through morning chores I no longer
think about as I accomplish them

Wednesday says, ‘today is hump-day
and you have not been humping,’ and
mocks me, laughing when I am late
but I move on, move on like any other day

Wednesday follows me to the grocery store
and I scurry around corners to shake him
but when I get into line, he is before me
giggling with too many items in express