Restoration

From sorry I will wipe clean the smudges left

by careless girls, frail and fearful men,
all the friends and relatives who meant well
right up until they were out of earshot.
Once it sparkles I will fill this word with pure
water and offer you a drink of contentment.

I'd like to strip the lacquer off sex, love, marriage
remove some of the high-gloss, the glare slapped
up there by Hollywood and people who believe
a home can rise from a stack of plywood, playing cards.
It is dirty work, this scrubbing, but look how the strong
and knotty grain of these words can shine.

It might take a crowbar, but if the rotting weight
of bad choices is torn away, the spots
where fear and mold have made you and me
unsure of our worth, the wall of brick beneath,
exposed and lovely in its rest,
will give us a place to hang the truth
we brought in from the rain.

And so, like a Tiffany lamp, a coin from Spain,
the silver candlesticks left by my great aunt,
I will polish up the words now tarnished
and dull from years of mishandle and abuse:
beautiful promise please human help dream
Set around the room, we will look on these words
and-- knowing the price of labor--
see their marvelous worth.