Rents They Made

If we cannot make the rent I won't
Ever know your favorite color
It's turquoise, isn't it?
Like the tile in the shower?
Like window bottles?
And the mold that comes later we never think of now
And then if now again
Rose reflected sun
And lust paint cheeks that do look good in white
Wine has helped a bit.
Now and then
Our grandmothers wore cardigans
And worried about their childrens' hurts
Were real.
Thimbled into wedding dresses and veils
Reveal more uncertain faces
Afraid to tell what happened in the bushes
Then and now if how still
At the end of brushes you sit
Watching them paint themselves your skin.