Last night were burning

Everything in the pantry.

In our arms we carried

The ashes of past deeds.

We left a jar on the counter

With rice from our wedding

That we fed to the sparrows,

Orioles and the blackwings.

I would rather inherit

All the sins of my father

If it meant I could feel like

What he loved in my mother.

But I can’t change

Your memory of me

With a bloodstained shirt

And my chin tanned like coffee.

I can’t say

What you wanted to see

When you pruned the branches

And buried the shadows of me.

Now we dance in the kitchen

And there are boxes in bedrooms

On a cold day in April

When the house smells like hyacinth blooms.

But I still remember

When we laid on the floor

And wondered how

We would ever fill all the rooms