Trying to Look Busy
It isn't fair, I know, that I ask you
to keep track of time, the details,
the scheduling of our lives. Or that
I tease you that we are always late.
We live busy lives, and some things
are bound to fall through the cracks.
We are late for the art show or miss
some deadline, and you take the blame.
While it must appear that I'm muddling through,
a passenger in your car, another child to herd
out the door, one more detail to be managed.
You've mentioned that I can seem oblivious.
And, truly, some details fait to occur
to me as having the importance you seem
to have assigned them: What on earth are you
wearing? Why hasn't the homework been done?
But I managed, I managed to get along
with very little crashing down upon me
before we took our vows to one another
and even now I tend to other details,
such as the keeping of our poetic history
and the stoking of our metaphorical fires.
I am cultivating our creative spaces, and
filling the pantry we use to feed our souls.
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