Dishes break
Shattered by the tile of the kitchen floor
She said “Hello?”
I said “Look at the floor.”
She said “Are you okay?”
I said “Look at the floor.”
Dessert tasted rough, sour, and mean
I said “Its delicious.  Really.  Amazing.”
The clock hit 12, midnight across the sky
I looked at it, at her, and asked “Why?”
I told her “Why do you have to be that way?”
I told her “Why aren’t you happy anymore?”
I told her “Why aren’t I?”
She turned, quietly, almost but not quite walking in her sleep.
I was entirely relieved.
The big hand was pointing up, the small hand on two.
I stared at it, and asked what to do.
The clock stared back, and said
“Look at the floor.  That’s where you are, by the way.”

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