06-06-2020, 01:16 AM
When I was nineteen I cleaned her house
Top to bottom.
Washed away her boredom
With my greying sponge
And ran my fingers through
Her scarves and clothes.
I liked one particular belt
With a butterfly clasp.
It felt cold and heavy.
I loved her husband something
thick and desperate.
He looked like I thought men should look.
With my mop I followed
His dirty footprints on the
Linoleum. Sometimes I thought
About stealing his cigars.
I cleared away lipstick stained coffee cups
And half-dressed glasses of wine.
Lifting soot from the fireplace
I cradled a picture of her mother
On the mantlepiece,
Before wiping the dust away.
Walking home I lost
the money she gave me.
I spent the afternoon retracing my steps,
Honeysuckle in my nose and
wind burning my eyes.
I never did find that twenty.
Top to bottom.
Washed away her boredom
With my greying sponge
And ran my fingers through
Her scarves and clothes.
I liked one particular belt
With a butterfly clasp.
It felt cold and heavy.
I loved her husband something
thick and desperate.
He looked like I thought men should look.
With my mop I followed
His dirty footprints on the
Linoleum. Sometimes I thought
About stealing his cigars.
I cleared away lipstick stained coffee cups
And half-dressed glasses of wine.
Lifting soot from the fireplace
I cradled a picture of her mother
On the mantlepiece,
Before wiping the dust away.
Walking home I lost
the money she gave me.
I spent the afternoon retracing my steps,
Honeysuckle in my nose and
wind burning my eyes.
I never did find that twenty.