words and image by Lisa Murphy-Lamb
But the longing for other places keeps her awake
Instead
of slipping serenely into the tenderness and refuge
family life offered
she was restless.
His thoughtful goodnight kiss, the
way he brushed
crumbs from each fingertip,
his socks left
each night balled carefully beside the bed-
lost
to the dogged, whispering murmur-
a ceaseless entreaty that robbed her
the pleasure
of bathing each pink toe on the left
foot of her youngest,
long walks each Sunday afternoon and receiving
a cup of tea while balancing what
he earns
and collectively what they spend.
She saw a different life
where crumbs fell freely and kisses
given
were unexpected, public, deep
and often.
Where tea grew native.
This image-this murmuring entreaty,
she worried,
would tire of calling her and
would
fade away
leaving her
only the call of the
tea kettle.
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