Rebirth

The sun streaks gray, shies away from smooth skin
white and timid
the clock reads another hour
and the sun fades a little brighter
and the silence seems to recall a domestic daydream of childhood
playing on tile floor
cool and neutrally comfortable
and looking down
and the focused pinpricks of light in her eyes
running racetracks on the floor

she runs water over hot hands
and holds her hair back
and looks to the window
the empty streets outside dried leaves
on the driveway in tire tracks
car passes a silent breath of wind
motor’s exhale and gone

and she holds back her hair
feeling that something is missing
and runs the water too long absent-minded
and ignoring the ashtray
a crushed dank butt not smoking not breathing
the life gone
and the white noise runs on
the water turns off
and she feels the sun and stands just existing
pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen
for that and this moment

nothing more