Carpet Circles and Winter Mornings
after Kelly Moffett
What to replace the emptiness. You
Another collected blame like gazing crystals.
Your morning shower came before “good morning,” before
“Want coffee?” and before I ever did.
I loved the prismatic bursts before my eyes,
your silhouette through the curtain
leaning forward to shave, head bowed. Prayer
fogged upon the mirror.
Then the usual hurried talk:
“Coffee’s ready” and “Where are my keys?”
I found an affinity for candlemaking. For you–
auto mechanics, smudging.
And I preferred darker places,
Rooms and hallways shrinking.
You would have liked this waterfall.