Sunday, August 15, 2010

The hive of my heart keeps track of time

On quiet days without you here the house is cleaner, but I fill my own coffee cup, and wonder where the spontaneous laughter from the living room has gone. I make sure all the artwork is hanging straight, flatten out the curled ends of throw rugs, peek into the card catalogue just to see the maps we keep inside. We've been to Arizona together and I kept a pamphlet on the birds we saw there. You were fascinated by the hands at the Rodin Museum in Philadelphia. I saved the brochure and made a sketch of you when we sat outside in the garden.

The refrigerator sighs and trickles, Bananafish pecks at his seed, the window fan drones. I stare at the wall, the shadow of butterfly bush on the floor, my own filthy toes. No one adores you like I do and when you aren't here I probably eat too much cake. Its sweetness makes me sleepy and slow. I count the time by the bees drowzing on thistles in the garden. Zzzzwhirp. Will you be home soon? Zzzzzyes.


beccab said...

Jen, this really is beautiful, and perfect for a Sunday morning.

OK, one pesky little grammar point (only because your stuff is always perfect for grammar, and I'm sure you already know it, and this was just a typo): "It's" only gets an apostrophe when it's a contraction for "It is." There's no contraction in "its" when you use it as a possessive. Sorry - this just drives me crazy.

Jenny Hill said...

Ooops! My slip was showing. Thanks for pointing it out. I've pulled it up under the hem of my skirt.

That's what I get for dressing quickly. :)

Indigo Bunting said...


gary barwin said...


A really lovely thing. Thanks for posting.

When I think of apostrophe for contractions, I always thing of this:

If I had the word 'don't' and wanted to contract it, would I have to leave about the apostrophe and then put it back in in order to contract it?