The Uncommon
In the river of the ordinary
we seek the magic that
finds its life blood
of the mundane.
Can we tumble through
the onslaught of dinner to
find heat?
Can I touch your mouth
with its beery taste,
and feel you speak my name
against my hair
after the children are asleep?
Will the tanginess of tomato
cover the river of bills
so that feet can find each other
against a shore
touched by toes
knowing the smell of each other?
Can I drain sorrow
along with pasta
against the white of colander
steeped with steam
and topped
with tender shoots of basil?
Just for a while
let me hang the peg of life’s tedium
along side the dog’s leash
as we walk upstairs.
copyright/All rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012
