By Jane Barnes
Plucks each metal musical
Instrument and rain chimes
In with a soft brush of a drum
Background mood in a gray
Sky. Admission: I’ve left the
TV off let music come let
Spirit sing. the traffic slow
Down workers still abed and
Me leaning over my perfect
Fried eggs. Made by Tenneh
Who is sorting my winter clothes
To put cold hours away and
In my small kitchen she washes
The dishes and puts them away
Leaves me to write this poem
She is her own poem
Jane Barnes has published work in BWQ for more than 14 years, and has poems in Gay & Lesbian Quarterly, Ploughshares, River Styx, The Massachusetts Review, and Wrongdoing. Her work appears in the anthologies Bi Any Other Name and Getting Bi.