I do

How often we stand in dark hallways
Contemplating tomorrow’s day
Wiping off the wet of a shower
And upstairs a woman sleeps with
An earthquake in her belly
What keeps her from running downstairs
Like a maniac
Charging your door with calls of suicide
Desperate and pleading
For mercy, hope, caress…
There are reverberations of pain
Weathered loss
Sleeping in every bosom
Behind a lock
How little it is we trust one another
How rare the crisis, how unheroic
We are
Every night I brush my teeth
And massage myself in my own drama
And wait for my door to come
Crashing down

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