Re-opening after renovations
It breaks my heart to
tell you that I’ve finally turned my back
Dust-busted the carpet
and rolled it up again and stacked
The guest towels,
faintly jaundiced by time, with the soaps of
Little heart shaped
welcome – so broken
When I laid them out.
Thinking, knowing, that you would come back.
And now I slide closed
this door, the one I promised would be left open
For your return from the
misty bog outside, always hoping
That you’d shrug your
way back in. Yes, your intention was clear:
Nothing more than a
“Fuck you and die” that reverberated for years.
And I didn’t lie to you
– I was going to leave it open.
Yet when the mist here
cleared and the mire dried out
The comet of your
arrival carried unexpected doubt
That shone on dirty
windows that had long obscured my view –
So it breaks my heart to
tell you that I’ve decided not to
Turn the dwelling of my
being, once more, inside out.
I gave a home to things
not my business to lodge, or
Rather, slaved in the
kitchen trying to conjure
Miracles from my own
housekeeping; now, l draw the curtains at last
Whose layered fabric
shows the moth-holes of 6 winters past
And there’s no complaint
you can lodge.
So if you’d please just do the same, and draw the cord on it. I’m sorry.
I’ll promise now to miss
you always. I’m not sorry.
For as the dust settles,
the photos on the wall illuminate no regret
And the warmth in my
house, in tiny bubbles, rises yet
On a new morning, as I
remember. Everything. And I’m not sorry.
