Constant

You

Are a constant.

Like waves.

Like Autumn. 

How many women have washed themselves clean of hate before they touch you? 

How many times have you doused your hands in someone too heavy for you to hold? 

I see your hands.

Thick with dirt and ‘sorry.’

So another question,

If I am angry,

am I laying dirty hands on 

or am I getting them dirty by laying

You 

down.

Let

me 

down/

out/

go.

It’s constant.

You are a constant. 

Like the dump truck each week.

Like a cold in the winter.