Painting by Douglas Morgan
Soaking
I wanted to have dinner waiting
with flowers and candles when
you came home. I want
to tell you that you’re wanted
in such a way that it would reverberate
for days, weeks, years.
But I worked late, had to help
a student with her paper, hit
traffic on the way home. I bought
dinner from Fresh Market, instead,
arranged it on plates, bought flowers but forgot
candles. You were late, too,
so I cleaned the bathroom sink,
while the food cooled and turned
hard. The laundry is folded, the dishes
are in the machine. This
is love. Believe it. I’ll get candles
tomorrow.
C.L. Bledsoe
Posted over on The Dead Mule
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