Dresser

two blue birds, their meeting

forever forestalled under the

china glaze, repeated, endlessly,

over teapot, dinner plates, side-

plates, teacups, and saucers

so smooth to her fingers, laundry-

chapped, as she sees the story

of lost love repeated, repeated,

repeated in blue and white,

upon the shelf, the shelf, the shelf

of blond wood that she stares at,

puzzling at some small imperfection

she cannot correct, the motes of

dust in a ray of sunlight mocking

her and still the dinner to be done,

be done, be done