Living on the Third Floor

 
My alarm sounds at seven
I do not turn on the radio in the morning
sometimes the phone has already been ringing
John’s patients call early downstairs
 
In my kitchen the water is boiling
I turn on the coffee pot
go to the bathroom
fix eggs, sometimes bacon –  toast with jam
 
My kitchen gets no sun in the morning
the ceiling by the window
for a year has rained down into pans
the plaster’s falling, looks terrible
 
I wash the dishes in the bathroom
my hands – are so uncoordinated
St. Vitus dance
as the dishes slam and bang

After breakfast I go downstairs
the family’s in the kitchen
if they have the paper
by the time I get it – they’re gone
 
Sometimes John stays for phone calls
in his study
or the kitchen
he’s always been busy
 
Usually 
– it’s me 
and the morning sun
and the newspaper
 
                                                                        (for  R.G., 1990s)