© 2008 Lisa Zaran

Nothing Undone

In the delicate moment between sunset and despair
My husband whose heart is a catalogue of wrongs
Watches monday night football as if the plays
Mattered in the whole scope of things, whatever
That means. My son pads the tile floor with sock-
Cushioned feet to the kitchen where afterwards,
Say tomorrow I might discover the missing beer.
My daughter, very sullen, considers her inner life,
The one I am not a part of, nor anyone, because
It turns out her inner life is lead in New York City,
Where she's a beatnik-type model with a boyfriend
Named Chet. I sit out back on a lawn chair with
My feet in the pool, counting stars and smoking
Too many cigarettes. The moon drifting down
Hits my glass of wine turning it the color of hurt.
I believe in the family, the slideshow that runs
Through the mind, the silver vacancy of wonder
That seems so bittersweet sometimes the feeling
Of it almost crushes me. I'm a slow learner
When it comes to forgiveness. I harbor a grudge
Until I've forgotten what it was I'm supposed
To be angry about. But I laugh at myself too.
I sit outside half the night drinking wine and
Smiling. The game ends. My husband opens
The patio door to tell me he's going to bed.
My son goes out with his friends. My daughter
Asks me for the fiftieth time this month is
She can go to New York this summer. For the sake
Of my sanity, I tell her maybe, which for
The fiftieth time this month seems to satisfy her.
I curl into the lawn chair which is shaped like
A beggar's cup and watch the stars which shine
Like coins, those little golden florets forever out of reach.

All work is property of Lisa Zaran.

[back to top]  [home]