The Busy Dark

Set the ship to sail, I said
You promised we would catch the tide
Yet here we sit
With little time to bide
Rowing in the busy dark

I stink; my stomach aches
You laugh and shake it off
I threaten you with angry looks
Your back is iron stuff
It knows my every trick

Plow the ground and plant the seeds
Before the sun goes down, I said
It would be done, indeed, you vowed —
Instead, now, side by side, with lamp to guide
We goad the ox and move the rocks
Sowing in the busy dark

I squint; my neck is wrenched
You grin and march ahead
The evening moon is faded, dim
I mumble curses on your bed
Your foot is sure and steady

You’d write the contract, line by line
You knew the deal was due anon
By candlelight, with drippings white
You scribble swiftly as I yawn

My eyes are red, my breathing, slow
Our penmanship, a messy show of
Marks that built this room
This ark
Glowing in the busy dark