there's a spot on her cheek
an ash perhaps
a mere smudge she's not aware of
we all see it so
quietly, i tell her
turning suddenly she wipes it clean
erasing any embarrtassment
and returns to the task at hand
counting her cards
circles below our eyes
declare that morning is near
as the factory waits tomorrow
day shift of all days and
we can't call out again or
we'll be let go for good
the lights fade as the sun rises
warning about duties as
it shows the disheveled house
i stretch out on the floor wondering
what it could be like to share her bed
i hear her turn off the water and
close her door
a pronounced decisive click
birds welcome morning
i blow out the last candle as
the house grows quiet with
Bob on the couch and
Dave in the recliner and
me on the floor and
my love in her bed
i second guess her thoughts as
i hear her shuffle
counting her cards.
douglas brent smith
