Truth Rhymes with the Heartbeats of the Temple

How about hours when the rug
slipped out from under
the time you opened the door
to light the universe
and pull some weeds,

gather the homegrown greens

to give them all away.

This is another conincidence

covering more than just one day

and can really add up

when you skip the footnotes.
Honestly, I don't like babies much
but smile at their reputation

for lack of a better word

or watch while they practice.
We just want to look at her
on the panel, want to touch
her tongue and see if it's really moving

before all of those surprises

in majestic diction

fall asleep in her lap.

But that's just gossip.
Such psychological outbreaks

are woefully endemic

here and the calm
of taking it all in

the ten o'clock news
is more than I can bear

all by my little lonesome.
Describe it my darling
in the evening as we try to say
it's all over now isn't it
but stumble between

instead the lamps,
who shall shut them off
if one of us should perish
or the other cannot turn?
The place to arrange the blankets
regardless of which falls first

remains original as I call
the old piano how to play
the game, fidget in the nest

of this tabernacle

where popes bed down too
master the last little lesson,

popping their special pill

like poorly paid ranch hands.
Strange they missed that one
but all those countries
asked for was a Sunday morning

in case they need
a better place to stay
that feels at least a little bit

like the habit where
they are supposed to be

when rituals roll around.
But darling goes off again,
doesn't lock the door anymore

or shut the cupboards.

Is it such a waste of time
to think he said

the house was dark

and they were sleeping?

Or was it just the wind?