the lone hose-bib, belly full
of cast off rain. The lip,
a thin and dripping threshold,
marks time twice
Within, within the humming fridge
distracted, loose-lidded, shared,
the quart of milk, date yet unmet
resides upon the high shelf,
sours and consumed
Everywhere the straight screws
brass and driverless, lose some thread --
embedded in old wood, shrunk and
warped -- stripped purposeless,
held-fast and loose
This is the home we have
an inheritance in halves,
twice marked time
I just got this today, and it's a beautiful poem and card.
ReplyDeleteSo nice to hear about a successful arrival
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