poems
joint custody
after you leave I clean the house
fold laundry
sweep the kitchen
vacuum rugs
dust
I arrange the kitchen cork board in a tidy grid pattern
copy phone numbers
discard unused business cards
throw away unread magazine articles
bills can be paid
calls can be made
to my parents
I know I haven't called in a while
to my doctor
I still have that pain in my chest
in your bed
the imprint of your head dents the pillow
quilt, sheets and blanket
cradle the hollow spot
the empty place
where last night you lay sleeping
