Home. Made.

another stressed day
just before Christmas bustle
lost to this sickness

tears fresh this morning
frozen pond glistening dawn
star-studded boathouse

guilt trailing my job
as he rushed home, two sick girls
and me? meetings, plans

she came back today
babyless, unpacking shelves
repacking her life

her despondence stung
i couldn’t leave her alone
burdened with boxes

we made plans, had lunch
I got your card, she told me
we’re not sending any

no family photo
for his first, never Christmas

(this is what i hear)

but she won’t say that,
leaves me lines to read between
your girls’ pic was great

her grief in all words
she tells of Christmas-free plans
prepared to move on

this i carry home
with oldest’s three earned awards
to my handsome chef

his job ends next week
i won’t worry who’ll nurse them
and make chicken soup

noodles fall from spoons
and girls, all better, delight
priceless remedy

now they’ll discuss me
what will he do now, and you?
i’ll have no answer

only the safety
of the home he makes for us
beyond what they see