That’s correct. You’re correct.
You’ve been correct all these years.
All these years I’ve lived with you
you’ve been correct in the
parting of your hair.
As you do the things you do
in the kitchen
there’s that smell
and I’ve watched you make your decisions,
look up towards the ceiling,
the flock sprayed sheetrock,
the lost landscapes your eyes look to,
horizons counting secrets
we keep from neighbors
and the gender roles we’ve played together,
there is the door, I’ll get the door.
You ask for more, go and get more.
– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin