can you write a poem
about the things you do every day
without being mundane?
dishes and laundry,
smoothing sheets over last night’s dreams
sweeping bits of dust
into piles of promises?
i’ve worn a path into these hardwood floors
27 years of back and forth
around in circles
and i think of all the life
that has fallen through those cracks
how many times have i wiped
the shine back into this wood stove
just so i could sit before it
and watch it gather dust?
i can build a fire in two minutes flat
but i’ve never had to put one out.
i’ve traded diapers for litter boxes
and mops for steamers.
this house knows all my habits.
it knows, too, to look away
at all the right moments.
we’ve lived together long enough
to recognize the shape
of each other’s