Black

Black is the color of a dead dial tone,
a distance the heart should have made
silent nights and grey sky days, the clouds hanging low
her cloudy story tumbling more and more like thunder

with a raincoat on, she stays safe in the shower
but when it rains it pours, her color turns
a toxic slick bitter black
a pot left to boil spews madly on the floor
her angry tears exceed 100 degrees

where was I, should have watched the eye
so careless with the stove--her heart and broken bones

Rushing in at 3 a.m. I'm late with no towels at hand
the diagnosis a mess,
she's done somersaults on the floor

her teeth, her face, hands, hair, eyes all black

in my absence, i left the casserole to burn,
the pie to fry and the water to rise

I can only pray soap will work