Visitation

Returning to the house he was so recently asked to leave

he waits in the kitchen,

a cup of gas station coffee in his gloved left hand.

She comes down to tell him they won’t need him today,

school’s called off and she’s staying home from work.

She offers to refill his cup.

If he has time.

While she runs the water

he stares at the down behind her right knee,

the place she always misses when shaving.

Hard already, he unsheathes his hands,

slides them under his old tee shirt,

turns her,

tries to come home.