Move by Sarah Lilius

Father, we keep ourselves real busy.
We are cleaning
We are packing
We are dusting.

We do not think of your dead eyes,
your ashes, the last time we heard
your laugh.

Father, we are not resting.
We are walking
We are pacing
We do not say goodnight.

Because we are tired and our hands
are dry. We are dirty
but the house is so clean—
the smell of bleach
has become our perfume.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s