Friday, November 16, 2018

slippery slope

when the air is still
and quiet
the puppy I brought home barks from her crate in the bedroom
(feeling sorry for herself)

I no longer desire to fill the silence
layered between us that is
ignored
like dust laden cobwebs in the corners of a skylight
out of reach and otherwise too much trouble to address
each argument a pebble
spit from my teeth
popping and rolling to a stop where it is
laminated by singular conversations
that go nowhere

and where are we now?
separated by a mountain of invisible pebbles
imprisoned within an intangible matrix of weeping serum

in the best of times
you don't reach for me
(and I don't reach for you)

you've never taken it before
(this is new)

but

does it speak to you
(does it speak of me)
that 
the first thing I do is check for your toothbrush?

relationships must have an expiration date
and ours is curdling

it is of greater concern that you might come back
in the middle of the night
disrupting my current with heat and turbulence
rather than stay wherever you went

I don't care where you are if it's where you've chosen to be.