mornings

i can hear him taking the first piss of the morning:
his shoulder pressed into the wall, eyes shut,
free hand rubbing the bones below brows.
he tucks himself back in and rinses one hand, no soap.
i know next he will more fall than walk down the narrow stairs,
run the un-rinsed hand through my hair
like he’s looking for something.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s