Your last relative is gone –
they certainly took their time,
didn’t they? – you sit at the table,
chin on knuckles, looking
as miserable as hell – and when I
offer a sweating mug of coffee
you look up with a petulant flip
of your hair, then take it
with a sigh, sneering,
“Gee…thanks!”
anything to be of service, I guess
I stand there, feeling like
the goof I am, eyebrows raised,
mouth open – I’d like to say
something testy but think better of it
I’m poised as if to brace
for an oncoming blow
but nothing forthcoming
you just sit there, looking into
the damn thing as if determined to
fish out something a little dirty
and a lot incriminating
you don’t find it, sigh again,
and stir the coffee with your spoon
even though you put nothing in it
I too am reduced to sighing –
I pull up and sit down to
face the consequences, such as they are
if you have words
they aren’t civil ones, no doubt
we could be here a long time
I start to whistle
your shoot me a glare,
putting a quick end to that
I tap a very tentative
reveille on the table top
knowing nothing I could say would matter,
I don’t know what to say anyhow
or even what the hell is wrong
we’ll be counting many hours
before we’ll be counting sheep
I might as well take the occasion
to settle back, study the stern beauty of your face,
and swim the molten pools
of your eyes….