Blanch
The sun
Curls around the edges
By the glass, a lady stretches
Feathering the marble
Upon the corridor.
Her feet are silent on the floor
Her hands, rising past the sore
Of wrist and tendon straining, more
Until she comes upon a door.
ah, there is more.
The dinner plates are empty:
Once they were as full as day
Mist of salt and lemon, spray
Across the steel unstained.
Here, a smear across the lace
There, a scratch upon a spoon
A drop has fallen from the china
Every item has a place
Every silence is a face
Tick, the talking of the clock
Chiming to a distant truth.
hello,
there is more?
tell me, there is more?
When the linen has been linened
When the silver has been silvered
When the dishes have been dished
There will be more
There will be more.
Take the mop, now take the bucket
Past the pillow, couch, and carpet
Count the stairs and make a wish
I have dreamed upon a fish
now I taste the deep alone.
Water, splashed upon a stone
Dribbles to a pond between
The squares; release the woolen hair
Across the floor, the bend of bone
In every dip and every drag
A promise to atone.
hello,
there is more?
tell me, there is more?
When the marble has been marbled
When the water has been watered
When the tangles have been tangled
There will be more
There will be more.
When the pewter has been pewtered
When the iron has been ironed
When the sweepers have been swept
I have never felt this way
I have never felt this way
Before
A sweater on the floor
Fold the fabric by the lines
And flinch upon the tag.
Wipe your sweat upon a rag
Fold your hands and smooth the ruffles
Raise a yawn to elbow, muffled
Do not let the cotton drag.
A pebble that is thrown
the money comes
the money goes
A promise to atone
the day is done
the river flows
And ripples, and alone.
The ringing of the telephone.
mama, tell me, there is more?
There will be more
There will be more.
