CLEANING HOUSE, WINTER 2006
Slipping into our roles is as natural as sliding beneath
a goose-down quilt: you, lumbering firewood in by the bundle-
your calloused hands unaffected; me, sheltering
my sliver-prone palms deep in pocket of my threadbare
apron. Without discussion, you and I ease into this:
me, scrubbing the kitchen floor on all fours-
my cheeks, shiny and pink as overripe peaches;
my knees, two bruised plums. And you, high
on your stepladder, repairing our yellow
porch light against a pale December sky.
Your salt-stained boots are firm on the step;
your hands, capable and solid, twist the fixture into shape.
Elizabeth Bruno is a recent graduate of the University of Wisconsin Parkside where she received a B.A. in English with a writing concentration. She is currently working and living in Wisconsin. Her poems have previously appeared in Lily, The Potomac & Eclectica.