THE STAIN
I notice the clues: my stitches itch,
a red exit sign flashes EX half broken in the dark
and the digital clock signals your birth date
in the middle of the night. Still
the impression your body left on the mattress
remains intact. Laundry hangs on the line
in the garden where the red wiggler worms
squirm looking for somewhere to hide
as if there is no place left on earth
dark enough to curl into. Half the yard
gets rain while the canopied half calls out
in thirst. Like a movie plot too confusing
to keep up with afternoon shadows
chase each other across the laundry line
only to go undercover at night.
What wants to happen between us anyway?
Maybe the stain that remains in the sheets
after washing is perfect just as it is.
I notice the clues: my stitches itch,
a red exit sign flashes EX half broken in the dark
and the digital clock signals your birth date
in the middle of the night. Still
the impression your body left on the mattress
remains intact. Laundry hangs on the line
in the garden where the red wiggler worms
squirm looking for somewhere to hide
as if there is no place left on earth
dark enough to curl into. Half the yard
gets rain while the canopied half calls out
in thirst. Like a movie plot too confusing
to keep up with afternoon shadows
chase each other across the laundry line
only to go undercover at night.
What wants to happen between us anyway?
Maybe the stain that remains in the sheets
after washing is perfect just as it is.