octoberfest

I trace lines in a calendar’s geometry,
the ink in tandem with my desire.
So begins the month of anniversaries.

Somewhere in the black lines,
She reaches the end of her driveway,
Steps out of the car and is compelled to walk
Again through the storm door, past the dog
To turn the dial of the electric stove, again.
Making sure that what she is home will still be
When she returns. Another grasps the handle
Of a door with her ring finger and thumb,
Securing the brass smoothly within her prints, aware
Of things that i can't see. And a small click
In her chest allows her to breathe.
And he keeps the concrete floor wiped
And all things in the place that is their place
Lining up bottles on the counter,
Sentries that battle whatever is at war
With vitamin b, zinc, and the herb that requires we remember.

Decks of cards,
Pencils in drawers,
And sugar packets
I place in rows
Like sunflowers in a Missouri field,
Remembering the moment I knew it,
The hour I said it,
And the minute I did it.
Arranging April 18th, August 28th,
And the coldest night of October
In the home of a woman
Who carefully moves food around her plate.