we will begin again.
Silent as a motive,
we will slip into their house
through the doors they forget to lock.
they will think, as they drive
to the mart, we will be gone just a
moment, what can happen
during daylight? We'll rummage
their belongings. The damask
table cloth, silver flatware, the crystal
vase will all know our breeze. We'll
go through the medicine cabinets
dosage and expiration dates,
the medicines prescribed
Sample a bit of each if we must.
At the door
to the master bedroom,
we'll stop, let our presence
travel from left to right. The full
scope of the room will be ours.
holds pictures of times
forgotten, picnics, ceremonies
of status in the bottom drawer,
underneath black slacks.
emerald earring we'll find wedged
behind the vanity's middle drawer
where the secret compartment holds
nothing more startling than
she made the first time
she straddled him in the backseat
of his two-tone Chevy.
A whiff of wisteria escapes before
the scarf she wore
to last night's bizarre,
Isn't it too much for a grandmother,
were the exact words she used when
her with the paisley
slink of fabric. Dust motes will swell
on illusions we create to leave the room
exactly as intruded upon.
bets: tonight as they gather
together their night shirts, will she
pause when she notices the awkward angle
of her brush? will he straighten
rack? will he not?
No matter. We will be watching.
We will be ready,
as they nuzzle belly to back.
need us, first him,
(a bit later, her,) we will wait.
After all, the door was open.
After all, none of us can escape.
The 2River View, 2_2 (Winter 1998)