ladles and laundries and tiffs

freshly tumbled, warm, crinkled
lay them out, slip them in
a flat rush of fabric softener between us
an unreturned hug, a flash in the eye,
white plastic hangers in hand,
open closet doors and fan on
lights waiting to be snapped off
no eye contact for the former doe
in the headlights who
collided and limped away.

Today gets
swept under the rug
dampened by tears shed through dehydrated ducts
Tomorrow gets
swept under the rug
wrinkled like crows feet under the friction
of heels and flats and muddy hiking boots
The day after gets
dusty, gritty, and the

tin
crystal
china
silver
pearl
ruby
gold

gets dusty, gritty, with the patina of
too much to be swept

Primero Dios

Crumpled scrubs rings the doorbell with on-the-way-home pie in hand
straight from work in the summer heat, baby Einstein hair
dishevels beads of sweaty forehead.
Voices inside crowd out the familiar ding-dong and
it's unlocked anyway. Crumpled scrubs opens the screen door slowly,
deliberately, edges her way around sticky wood,
at once graceful and awkward, pie in hand,
holds her breath at the sight of cardboard boxes
near the stairs, the sheen of clear packing tape, a mirror for
incandescent bulbs and the rotating shadows of a ceiling fan.
These faces are foreign and her inner wallflower blooms.
T-shirt and gym shorts is out back with a cold IPA,
laughing and entertaining people from this place he won't miss.
Buyers hauling away the couches tomorrow morning,
cleaning crew scheduled for two, books and clothes shipped,
and a flight the day after
to the new place. New dawns, new dusks, new dreams.
His eyes' magnets drawn to a silhouette at the kitchen counter,
she steps outside straight-from-work hungry with a piece of pie in hand,
draws a fork to her mouth, pie on lips,
catches sight of t-shirt and gym shorts catching sight of her.
For a darting daring second their eyes lock and they feel
what could have been
crumble away