For weeks now I have lived amongst my own clutter and dust
Traces of what went down all over the floor, sticking to my feet as I walk
The vacuum, deserted, expectant at the top of the stairs
The bathroom counter strewn with jars and paints I once considered love potions, and Maybe, once again taken by that lonely hunger
Someday will again.
For now I'll wear red lips and heady men's perfume only to embellish
Time spent in bed writing poetry under the covers, my dog at my feet.
I have never before lived so long in the physical remainder
Of Us becoming You and I again
Usually the evidence is less tangible
Like my crying over too many late-night
Sex and the City reruns I would never watch unless alone
Playing a soundtrack of us,
Then destroying all evidence that we tried.
Yesterday I was taken by the need to clean,
To have at last a floor I can lay on without
The need to brush off after
To throw out food starting to sour on the bench
To clean the smudges off the mirror and see clearer
To reflect myself truly—I cleaned into the night.
Sleep was hours away besides; I've taken to
Staying up 'til two,
Sleeping 'til ten.
When sleep came it was fitful; dreams of trying to find higher ground
In waves of sudden flooding
In towns I don't live in anymore.
From my vantage point I watched the river
Swelling
Consuming
Moving with the certainty of an army of millions,
As I and hundreds of others sheltered
In empty warehouses into which the water seeped, and
Began to creep up the walls
Until we were treading water, powerless