Homemakers
Updated: Aug 31
Is it the end of love,
when a look
is a chain of events stopping at two?
When the outline
of your face
scurries away
under the stove.
When your name is just a word tasting like bread.
Baby,
Is it the end of us
when a kiss is
a grocery list?
Is it a home
if the kitchen
is clean?
Because here I am
using my elbow grease,
making us whole again.
Do we have time for breakfast?
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