I've been going back and forth
between the kitchen and the front door
Are you a lost cat
waiting for a familiar scent to guide you home?
Are you anticipating
a comforting gust around every foreign corner?
The innocent scenarios play in a loop
but I know that I am discovered:
the grit has floated to the surface
and no amount of my regret will rinse
the memory of it from your eyes
Nevertheless I scrub the counters
stack the dishes
so you will find a cleaner home
when your need to see my face contort in shame
brings you slowly back
And yet it's not the guilt that keeps me awake
even while I steep in it
but the fear
that when the ire bleeds into your cheeks
at the sight of this jaw line
it will be for your foolishness in trusting
not for loving me.