renovations: inside and out

it will always be a work in progress.

as am i.

so i procrastinate.

i get fired up.

i cry and laugh

perhaps at the same time.

i cry some more.

 

i sand plastered walls

until 3 in the morning

i stare at the canvas

until i forget my name.

i mix up my verbs:

my to dos

my to bes

i ravish time

when it offers himself up to me.

and not in a sexy way.

 i beat against his chest

with bleeding knuckles

dreading his sweet breath

on my bare shoulder

because it reminds me

of his existence.

i forget things.

to be kind.

the keys.

the sound of my own voice.

i remember

to take off my shoes

when i step on holy ground.

to weep with joy

over so reckless an abundance

of grace:

our old doors and beams

finding new life

in a bench for the studio.

whiskey and cigars on our patio.

warm breeze through

the flung open doors.

a favorite professor

as my new neighbor.

friends stopping by 

unannounced.

a lovely housewarming gift

arrived in the mail

from the dearest of souls.

the relentless tenderness

of time,

who keeps on loving me,

bloody knuckles

and all.