by kristinryan
The Sound of Easing
And this is how it goes:
You’ll be sitting at your desk
after you’ve moved your husband’s razor
from the bathroom counter to the drawer
after you’ve put on the purple lipstick
after the mascara has dried
and after you’ve admired your newly healed tattoo
you’ll notice a shift: the sound of bones easing:
twenty years of guilt and blame somehow,
suddenly lifted from you on a Saturday night.
The photo of the child on the wall, the one who
has your eyes will watch as you weep.
Will say in her sweet voice:
I’ve been telling you for decades
in all the ways I could, it wasn’t our fault.