A Week Away -or- The Fish is Dead, by Gail Chaine

The pile of damp towels is mildewed.
? Various items have fallen off the walls?
… you know, what I mean.

But the blueberries are ripe and sweet,
despite crabgrass growing in the patch.

He, took me right to bed…
She, let me kiss her on the top of her head.

It’s good to be home, even though
the fish is dead.

(Gail Chaine, July 2013)