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.

7 Responses

  1. 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!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.