In this blessed house

I move through high, bright rooms,

Leaving the bedroom and the bed and coverlet

That held the weight of our ravelled bodies 

And the scent of our lewd and brazen lust. 

I sway down the straight staircase

We clambered hurriedly up yesterday

Trembling and wary of the topography 

Of the new body we each wanted 

To traverse right away. 

I go into the shadowy blue living room

Cool despite the sunny day

And carelessly meander between 

Sofa and armchairs and the walnut rocking chair

And the houseplants in the corner 

And the floor lamp with the soft pink shade -

Things that have been present for decades

But haven’t surrounded you. 

I hear you in the kitchen - the last room 

In the house - I hear metal lightly clattering on ceramic

And smell toasting bread and good coffee.

I stand at the narrow old kitchen door

And watch you making yourself useful,

Warming milk, spreading jam on muffins.