Choosing Sides
The problem is
I want the door open
Open to the places inside
we both stopped going
where unspoken shadows
conspire their freedom
from a compromised life
in the dark
Like our aquarmarine-tiled
kitchen floors
a mother of the bride
imposed
gift
And the malcontent heap
of wet towels
in the bathroom –
resident aliens
birthed from
your nightly showers
forever vying for
permanent citizenship
But maybe
if the door budged —
if only a crack
time would escape
bearing memories
of the lake last summer
where we slept —
together
offering vows
to the stars overhead
and the earth underfoot
of yes
and yes
And surely
through that open door –
just open a crack
the lamps would no longer
choose sides
casting their glow
so that you’d see
Today,
I hadn’t stayed late
at the office
Today I was here
hands full of flowers
those purple irises…
Aren’t they
still your favorite?
Maybe not anymore
because the door
is closed
And we have deprived
the expectant irises
of their admirer.
I may want
forever, here
just me,
a door,
bouquet of irises
turned spectators
in hand…
Somewhere
inside
I know this waiting
is a game built
to enslave the patient
Too bad
the door isn’t open
to knowing.
