every day means... everyday poems too sometimes.

я люблю тебя саша.

--

Once my mother picked lice out of our hair,
the louse's egg white on my thumb,
and sure hands grasped
the terrible comb.
You and I
have picked each other's hair out now
like grouses,
the tenor of happening laughter
similar to remembered laughter,
likewise the pain,
and the killing vinegar
always the same,
and the sullen blue moon
that wearies on the porcelain
has fattened and retired
and looked on all the while.
Oh, go first into sleep, flushed
tousled and clean, don't stray,
and I’ll ward you on your way.