226. Riah at the Sink

She caught it–lost it–
As it darted by:
A worry, threading,
Buzzing in her ears.
It slipped away.
She wiped another plate.

What now? Her skin was
Greasy from the water.
The farm was theirs again,
For time at hand:
And that’s what makes me
Happy, always has.

She tried to stir up
Suds: Louise, she hasn’t
Been around, a couple days.
Jumpy as a lightning-bug
In summer, lately.
Hangs around for hours,
Then she paces,
And those spike heels
Scrape the floor….

Well, maybe this is how
Her headaches start–
In this needling way,
Do you suppose?
Riah frowned: Who
Am I talking to?
A someone in my head….
Well, that’s new.
I ought to do more dishes,
Clear my mind.
I need more suds.

In the yard,
She bent beneath
The stoop, to find
The cartons where the soap
Was poured to set, a lumpy
Brown. Branches
Desolate, the plum tree
Stood beside.
A clutch of crumpled
Leaves, still held aloft, beat at
The wind like harried
Hands: get back, get back.

A worry stitch-stitch-stitched
Behind her eyes.

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