Letters from Home

The Day, Stripped Down

If you ask this question,
I answer:

Wake up,
Kiss cheeks,
Move sheets up to pillows
Move aside blinds.
(Daylight must have its way).

Eat food.
Water from a tap.
Frozen bagels scorched
In that metal box.
Spread plates around the
Craigslist table.
Brush crumbs from cheeks.

Get dressed.
Move the hampers to move
The clothes, to spin the
Daily cycle of wet then
Soapy, then wet then
Wrung and wrinkled
Tossed, fluffed, with
Nubby balls.

Work.
Soft black buttons
Willing to say
Anything to my
Fingertips
If I just give
In.

Eat again.

Bury face in hair
Bury face in shoulder.

Eat again, passing
Rites and telling
Time.

Reading then
finally
Tucking.

TV awhile
Knit maybe.
A page, then

Into the night and sleep.

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