Reconciliation

Morning through the window comes A breath of fresh air Birds song and gentleness of light. Desire flushes memory of the night Staring at the stain Blotchng the old rug's design. If only it was not so expensive So valuable I would have thrown it out. The stain is more disgusting Than than the spilling - Her breasts are too dry for accusations To stick. The empty glass stands yawning The children are too old to sip Our tidy explanations of blindness. But I I let it balm my pain like a promise Annihilating the presence of the glass. I stroke her hair again And smell his hands.