SHE KNEW SHE KNEW

He told her he'd be back
as soon as the rains came
he told her he'd bring gifts
upon his return if the deal
went through she listened
but she knew she knew

through the fall she knit
and worked at her laptop
searching "baby care" and

through the winter she slept
naked in their bed and pet the
cat and waited for Jack

through the spring she'd sing
to the birds on the feeder
outside her bedroom window

through the summer she grew
glummer and when the rains
came and he didn't return
she knew she knew


          ORIGAMI

With each finger's folding
of the printed page
she will think
of touching him,
bending him and
unbending him,
folding him,
and unfolding him;
like some origami
of the heart,
she encrease her love
for him.


           NOT NOTICING

He is facing the wall, laughing.
She is staring at the ceiling, crying.
Both are naked and wet with sweat.
Is this all about something
that has been brewing?
He will not speak in tongues.
She decides it's impossible
to sing the same old tune over and over
again and again.  In the background,
the TV's a blizzard of wintry snow,
hissing at them like their older cat,
George.  Or is it just one of them
making animal noises in the dark?
The children are all dead to the world.
And outside a police siren howls.
The city traffic passes far below
not noticing.