I hear the swift slap of your shoes retreating on the stairs,
The rattle of plates on the draining board as you slam the door;
I pound my fists into the carpet, gulping air.
You drive into the city for a drink; I lie weeping on the floor.
When you swept the coins from the littered dresser top,
An arc of silver dimes rained on the bed.
The children’s whispers in the hallway made us stop;
I bit my lip and gathered coins instead.
Now in the shuttered silence as you sleep,
My throat grows tight. I remember when we lay,
Your breath in my mouth, our hearts’ twin beat;
We never thought it would end up this way.
Tonight, I close my eyes against this sorrow;
We will make it right again, tomorrow.
