What was that?
Early morning waking and
spine still creeping with
crawling ants and a nice policeman
at the thickly padded door.
Waking and wondering at the man
inside her kitchen, doing dishes, who was he,
this blend of old and new,
she’d thought more of old until
that odd door swung open.
A clean house revealed, and
a beautiful red haired daughter
bounding down her stairs, this could
only be new, the trash and filth was behind
the old doors with her old men.
Clean now, but still the ants swarmed,
the policeman helpful as he pointed them out,
turning the south side of her house and fencing
into a river of bodies, compromising her thickly padded
and protecting front door.
Here, I’ll seal it for you, he said,
until you can get someone out here to
rid you of them, and he placed his policeman’s
tape around and across, bracing and barring
that old, odd, spaceship-like door.
She’d woken, shamed at the dirt that no longer existed,
somehow believing the policeman could see it still,
despite her new man helping wash it away, and she
was still mixing up old with new and learning a red haired
daughter was happier now that the door was taped.
Still, she woke confused with ants still crawling,
who was the man, was he her new?
Woke thinking of an earlier wedding dress conversation,
and his astonishment that she’d never worn one, despite
two marriages, despite two new doors.
She woke wondering if it were time for a third.