Post Intervention.

She would say
"You really shouldn't
add so much margarine"
and then take the spatula in hand
just so she could touch what
He wished to claim as his own
creation,
         as his own
               his own
so that it would taste
like her loving hand
   that hides it all SO well and she would

smile at the neighbor (who
had the revolving Christmas Tree)
as if the years before
had never happened,
as if the sky rained
empty scotch bottles
and expletives
through the
          clenched teeth of
                       God every
day and she would

laugh with her hands
covering her mouth , eyes still
narrowed like the
barkeep who thought
everyone was after the till,
who had once served him freely
                     freely...
                                     free
and she would

sleep without resting
on the couch or the step
with her head propped up
on the handrail in anticipation
of the late night arrival that


no longer comes
         no longer stumbles
                  no longer curses
no longer
                      and longer still
and she would

                and she does

and she will

©2001