January 9, 2024

in case you haven’t heard

Those towels you folded looked catalog-worthy, fluffed into perfect squares
on the bed on which you’d eased down the fitted sheets over the corners
of the mattress that always gives us such trouble. You did this while downstairs,
I was attacking the hardened butter and bulldozing the upper shelf of the fridge 
for the jar of raspberry jam I was sure was there, the mug in my hand—filled 
with the strong coffee you’d creamed and sugared the way I like it—
sideswiping the condiments in the side pocket, and…well, you know the rest. 
After, we were too busy mopping up my mess, and it was too late to tell you 
how lovely your eyes looked in the morning’s muted winter light, like backyard 
swimming pools or pompoms, or small planets taking their time around the sun.