I always say no. I have said it so many times it stopped being a decision. Someone asks, and the no is already out, ahead of me, before I have checked whether it is true. I don’t know yet what it would cost to answer differently.
help me
You hear the jar hit the floor in another room
and you don’t move.
You leave the towel where it fell.
The basket and the shoes have been on the stairs since Tuesday.
You step over them.
You see me trying to lift the suitcase over my head.
You stay in your seat.
You watch the trash rise over the rim.
You push it down and add more.
You see me carry all of it up in one trip
and you tell me I should have made two.
You hear me apologize for something you did
and you let me.
You hear me on the phone with them for the third time.
You ask me where your keys are
but you haven’t looked where you left them.
You see the gas light on in the car
and you park it in the driveway.
You ask what we are doing this weekend
and you mean what did I plan.
You watch me pay the bills at the kitchen table
and you ask what’s for dinner.
You know my best friend’s name and nothing else about her.
You sign your name under mine on forty cards
and they thank us both.
You come home heavy. I make the room soft.
You don’t notice the room was made.
You feel me crying in the dark
and you turn toward the wall.
You feel me lying awake beside you
and you slow your breathing
so I will think you are asleep.
You hear the alarm chirping at two in the morning.
You wait to see if I get up.
I carry everything on the same side now.
That shoulder is going.
I never set it down where you could see.
I ask you for one thing.
You say you are at capacity.
You don’t move.
You don’t look.
You don’t ask.
You always ask if I need help.
The jar is still on the floor.
With love, still becoming ~ amy