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.
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