Domestic Life

by B. Lynne Zika


When I’m late for dinner,
when the soup is cold,
and he stands in the kitchen—
she’s late; she’s coming,
she’s late; she’s coming—
will he remember the morning sun
glazing my hair in copper and mica
so that he stood watching from the doorway
unwilling to leave?

When I forget to let the cat in,
when I open the windows and turn up the heat,
when I disappear behind a book, a mood,
a question not yet answered,
will he remember me in moonlight,
soft brush of night air
painting everything cool and silver,
his hand against the small of my back,
his lips brushing my forehead?

How long before the fire in his hands
cools to a friendly pat
and he stops aching for me in the night?
How long before yes, my darling
stretches in front of the fireplace
and wakes as an uh-huh and hmm?

I will leave him
before I watch the corpse of love
rot in the fields where we once made love,
night sky pebbled in quartzite,
the lady moon draping her hair around our shoulders,
singing us to sleep.
I will leave before the husbandry of pleasure
is buried in a compost of homemaking,
before household gadgetry
becomes the machinery of love.


* * * * *

B. Lynne Zika’s photography, nonfiction, and poetry have appeared in numerous literary and consumer publications. 2022 publications include Delta Poetry Review, Backchannels, Poesy, Suburban Witchcraft, and The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature. In addition to editing poetry and nonfiction, she worked as a closed-captioning editor for the deaf and hard-of-hearing. Awards include: Pacificus Foundation Literary Award in short fiction, Little Sister Award and Moon Prize in poetry, and Viewbug 2020 and 2021Top Creator Awards in photography. Website: https://artsawry.com/.