One cracked arm,
a chin gashed through to bone,
ribs lashed up by staples later...
we like us again.

Not that love had ever left.

Buried, yes,
in miles of diapers
homework runarounds
clean up your room and eat your mashed potatoes.

Unimpressed by waiting
love was
until she found a waiting room
where death sat down beside her,
praying,
for you,
to take up your pallet,
and walk.

Susan Weber 

Public Domain painting Paul Gauguin, Rückenakt

POEMS