I slip your mind
like sand through fingers
leaving only salty dust
to be brushed off
like a deed accomplished.
Time can be broken
as sure as lover’s hearts
in a fragile moment
of blameless forgetting
or of a world too much with you,
braying its demands,
flashing even teeth,
its Christmas ornaments,
its ringing doorbells,
or the space between
lovers’ thighs.
I only whisper when you let me,
black sparrow’s trails across a field of white.
The excellent servant, neither seen or heard
until there’s laundry to be done
or a broken glass to sweep up.
Between times there are mouthfuls of sand to chew,
patience to grind my teeth to gums
while waiting for a stained suit jacket
or a puddle of spilled milk.
After all this time, how is it possible
I have not learned my place?
I’m not a good servant after all.
Please accept my resignation.
A beautiful piece of writing.
Wow… that packed a punch… well done, RG.
Lordy, woman! That hits real close to my home and attitude. Now to do a mom’s taxi run. See? Love ya. ttfn.
I really felt this one. The pain, the wistfulness, the bleakness.
Love the last word ‘resignation’…the double-meaning of quitting or, as I took it originally, the capacity for endurance, tolerance and forebearance…the narrator being resigned to her situation, pleading for clemency and stating that she will be a ‘better’ servant, therefore more ‘reliable’.
You’re a word artiste!
raw, yet elegant. beautiful!!
Thank you, Robin!