it's raining, saturday morning
you wake up crying from the night before
the kids came home late last night
the kitchen is in a mess
you're no longer sure about love
yes love, that is the question
you live with your husband of twenty years
and you still have children at home
the question is love
what of it /where is it/where did it go
you are trying to remember love
the smell of it, the taste of it
you want to remember the colour of love
your eyes are circling the kitchen
looking for the colour of love
you contemplate the phone
a black box of distant promise
there is no love there
the fridge, pure white
a fat woman in a white sheet
she is talking to you
it is not a friendly conversation
she is pointing to the window
in the window it is raining
blue tears, sliding down the clear glass
the colour of love is waiting
in the windowsill, a bottle
it is clear glass full of blue tears
ninety-five valium like beer on the wall
ninety-five valium
go on, take them all
the woman in the sheet
is whispering cool messages
helping you swallow
promising lies
the blue tears
are falling down the window
down your cheeks
blue tears down your throat
the colour of love
Copyright©michael dennis/South Western Ontario Poetry 1983
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