Catching up with the Deadbyannaswirls©
"Baby it has been so long,
what do you want to talk about?"
You blurt, Spaghetti Sauce
skitter out the door sideways,
At first I laugh but I see now,
you want me to tell you about
everything. How I still sometimes wait
until morning to clean up after,
noodles dried into hard orange curls,
wine evaporated into burgandy circles
at the bottom of the glass.
You want me to tell you how the children have grown,
how they haven't. How they will not let me wet the napkin
with my tongue to wipe their mouth anymore.
You want to hear the sound
of dishes clinking under water.
Do you remember the night
the baby woke up crying
for his lost balloon, how
the promise of more balloons
would not soothe him?
In your silence then, I could feel it,
your own tears wanting to spill over onto me
lonely bones wanting me to carry you up to bed,
soak your aches.
He has forgotten about the balloon.
It is our memory now, one
that will not rinse easily.
I still watch for you sometimes
up, up out of my sunroof
your ribbon cut too short.