Monday, May 9, 2016

you sober up, sometimes

He will wake up, on the corner of a mattress
like a crumpled sock untangling

itself from the rest of the world
then will restart the process of cleaning

the house, the trees, the garden
start away from the eyes where no one can see, a change

to you, he will turn, for a smile,
or a justification, maybe

in the afternoon, after the chicken is fed
the children studied, he will turn to you alone

when he asks you to dance
on the remains of your house, say no

because it is not his hand that put up,
brick by brick, the ground- work
in turn, bless him and ask him to collect the leafs
that are yet to fall from the tree
to wait for your signal, or for music, if it comes.

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