Monday, November 26, 2012

Poem: 1999

Reflection in a Glass of Wine
at the End of Another Day

I haven’t counted—
I never count—but he arrived
in the kitchen for supper
seven times today
between 1:30 and 4:15. 
I gave him notes
(supper at six o’clock…
shower at 5:30),
but they went the way of all notes,
to be tacked to the wall
of his barn office, or his door,
his desk, blending with notes
from April, from January,
from last year and the year
before that, notes instructing him
to feed the dogs, to refrain
from feeding the dogs,
to put out his garbage, notes
reminding him of my phone numbers,
how much oats each horse should get,
how many cats he is feeding,
notes giving him the dogs’ names,
the horses’ names,
my name.