Extended Stay

We lay on the hotel bed
hungover and low as
snail droppings
after all that coke and
wine.

We spent the afternoon
watching fat free television,
hiding from our
plans and
enemies.

The only time anything moved
was when I stood to make her
a grilled cheese
on the hotplate in the corner
of the
room.

The tile floor told
the story of
our love:

shards of broken glass
and a thick pool of red nail polish
from where I had thrown her things
against the wall
the night
previous.

I had told her to leave
again
after telling her to leave
so many times
before.

She called out from the bed,

"Daddy, I've never heard you sing,
I want you to sing for me in the
shower."

I smiled.

"Of course,
kitten."

I gave her the sandwich and
she perched on top of the pillows while she ate,
an alabaster dove on
linen
branches.

I was happy watching her
though I knew that she would fly away again,
it was just a matter
of
time.

She would lock herself in some bathroom
with a late night pill pusher
or
promiscuous couple
and disappear for
however
long.

I thought to myself,
"At least tonight,
my dove,
I've caught you
and fed you and
kept you
warm.

Just like I have
so many times
before.

You're safe for now."

When she finished eating I
locked the door,
turned out the light,
and got back
into
bed.