I think I’d like to talk 

About the weather with you. 

To make talk so small 

It could fit into the thimble 

With which I mend your corduroy, 

And have a love that’s larger 

than the basin you bathe in.  

I’d like to wash while you dry,  

Rinsing your lipstick from 

The rim of a champagne flute,  

Our conversation in a coffee cup. 

I’d like to drip honey 

Into your tea, 

And drape linen over a clothesline, 

Pinning fabrics enfolded 

With the scent of soap. 

I’d like to crack an egg  

Under your whisk, 

And open a pane to kiss you 

As you tend the daisies in 

The window basket.  

I’d like your reflection  

In the medicine cabinet mirror, 

Saying that my dress  

Matches my eyes 

As you brush your teeth.