After My Father's Service

Stephanie Rogers

                         Water splashing
up from the sink, curtain
       in the window turning, wind
carrying the air
               into my lungs, throngs
of ants hoarding crumbs
                        near the tub, grout
losing its luster
               like a rain gutter, small
talk wearing off
                      in the ether, leather
jacket eating my skin, train
        waking up in the nighttime,
calendar of owls
     roaming the hillside, whisper
of a droplet on the grass blade,
                string on the doorknob
to knock the tooth
                                 out, deep end
of the summer house
                               pool, breeze on
the highway cop car sirens,
              unspooling of the hand-
sewn blanket, split
    skin of the upper lip chapped
off, quiet clink
            of the mini-tank earrings
on the dresser, dry cleaner
who returned my coat, little red
heart on the hanger.