EACH TIME
each time i vacuum the carpet
you gave me when we were us
i thank you again for its beauty
there strategically beneath the
glass table top no poker game
or dinner party has ever seen.
unlike my feelings pentimento
under my good humor exterior
nothing is hidden here anyone
with a keen eye, like television
detectives knowing the script,
would spot before i'm finished,
awaiting visitors, like our love,
who will never return to finish
the meal turned cold, politely
complimenting the wine aged,
so unlike myself, to perfection.
6/18/23
p.j. rockwell
Poem