She’s found her opening
In the hour or two
A man comes home from work,
Tired, beat, enjoying a beer
And a chair and the distraction
Of television. Of single-determined
Intent. Then, she curses herself, for
Wondering if a day-scheduled off
Is really real.

“Yes.”
“They need me at work.
You should know the routine
By now!” And, she does, so
She enjoys a beer alone, every
Day she’s alone. Used to be worse,
But, she’s changing that past. She’s
Stopped working for tomorrow,
Tomorrow doesn’t exist, anymore.

“Will I be alone, again, tomorrow?”
She knows she will, swallowed by
Sparrow beaks, she knows the routine.
‘No personal phone calls, texts or e-mails,
Too busy for that, sorry...’
No signs of day given up for physical
Romance, or pretense of such.
In later-nows of child-rearing years,
It feels like real is different from real.

“Yes.”
“I have to work,
You don’t. I knew the routine
That was to come when I met you. I’ve
Always loved you. By now, you should
Know that.” “Today, I am tired, tomorrow,
We’ll talk again. Do you understand?” “Why,
Yes, I do. Thank you love, for understanding
me, too.”

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 11/3/07