“nothing, pure nothing, in the middle of the day” – Variation of Rita Dove’s “Daystar”

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She wanted a little baby for company:

But she saw the answer in his eyes,

Like a load of laundry souring in the wash.

So she went out back into the yard

To confide in the squirrels.

 

Sometimes there were things to watch –

The solidarity of working ants,

A new family of magnolia buds.

Other days she closed her eyes

And tried to forgive

The commiserating song of the mourning dove.

 

She had hours before he would appear

Annoyed from inside the doorway.

And what exactly was she doing

Out back by herself again? Just

Female trivialities.

 

That night in bed she watched him

From across a thousand lukewarm seas

And thought of this place that was his

Month after month – Where

She was nothing,

Pure nothing,

In the middle of the day.

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