He Breaks My Fall

Its my house and the way I left it.
Coiled toys, uncoiled.
My grandmothers spun.
The way the door opens,
and I catch my kids awake.

Bedtime hits in intervals.
Swings and misses.
The girl with no childhood bed time enforces them,
and I think you know I have been up to no good.

My husband smiles,
I tell him I can read his smiles in my sleep.
His beard starts to grow... on me
I like to see his smile spread to the corners of his face.
Fully bearded he seems safer.
Easier to read.

My house is the way I left it.
He sees that.
Dishes piled.
Floors unswept.
His home unkept.

His little girls awake.
My sleep stolen.
My hands reach for the sink.
The cold water.
The breakfast dishes.

He sleeps.
I read his smile.
And I look down at my hands wrinkling.
He mocks me.

But even his mocking smiles,
turns my world upside down.