I can hear her footsteps moving across the floor
she is opening the curtains of the day
up before the rest of the house
and all over the world women rise
turn from night’s embrace
sit, stand
each a bright sun rising
they move from kitchen to bath to garden
picking fruit
cutting zinnias
putting bread in the clay ovens
champion swimmers in an ocean of possibilities
they pull in the wooden dreamboats
and mend the sails
while the rest of us
secure and undercover
hear their rustling
feel them tenderly adjust the blankets
knowing we will not drown
and that the clouds will be pinned in place
when we wake


(Originally published in Room of One’s Own, Volume 24:3)

Comments are closed.