James Babbs writes

She Was Already Home

she was already home when I came in 

on the couch watching TV

she didn’t say anything and 

I climbed the stairs to our room

started changing my clothes 

in the bathroom I washed my hands

getting them good and soapy 

recalling what I’d heard

on the radio earlier that day 

how most of us never wash our hands

long enough to get them really clean 

you should sing Happy Birthday they said

about twenty seconds or more 

counting slowly in my head

before rinsing them 

looking at my hands

as if they belonged to someone else 

the face in the mirror the same

the towel rough against my fingers 

when I stepped into the doorway

she didn’t give me a chance to speak 

there’s a plate in the oven for you

she said 

her eyes never leaving the screen

I sat in the kitchen 

eating dried-out chicken and

mashed potatoes with butter 

because

there wasn’t any gravy 

I drank a glass of water and

listened to the sounds of the TV 

sudden laughter form the audience

after one of the actors must have said 

something that was funny