Let the Day End With the Dishes

Let the day end with the dishes.
Let the night so gently implode
along its usual lines of fracture:
pajamas, lunches, and ironing.
Let the last unraveling of evening be
into familiar threads whose ends can easily 
be gathered for tomorrow's weave
but not tonight, when our only remaining concerns
should be with letting go, a final chapter,
one more child to put to bed,
the turning out of a light, the kiss,
the whispered promise of return,
and last, the possible nearness of a quiet other
in a dark good night.

April 5 2011