The wall in our old house has a crack,
Not long, but deep
Like the crack in my skull
The one from last December
When the Cadillac hit and we woke up in separate rooms.
Sometimes I stay up at night
And I walk in circles around our neighborhood
Because I forget I am already home.
Our house is in the middle of the labyrinth
But if I am Theseus, you are Ariadne
And I have left my ball of string behind.
I am no hero.
The only reason I ever knew where I was
Is because you were there too
And that was home because you told me so.
But I have left you on your island,
And can’t find the way back.
I was never good with maps or directions
Or even remembering which drawer holds the silverware
or which cabinet the guest towels go in
But you knew where everything belonged
So with you I knew my place.
Without you, I don’t know what color goes with the new carpet
But I took all the paint swatches
And my tangled ball of string
and laid them out on our bed
And I never slept there again.
The crack in the wall will never be fixed
and the walls will never be painted
And the guest towels will have to learn to live with ours
Because I can’t remember how to get home.
I can’t see our house in the dark.
But I remember the crack in the wall,
And sometimes, if I squint just right,
I can’t see it anymore, either.