Do the Next Two Things
After the last friends depart
empty glasses and cups
are collected and washed,
the floor swept and that first night alone
the best I can do
is the next two things.
Feed the cat.
Make tea.
Shower.
Dress.
Braid my hair.
Discard the obvious junk mail.
This is how to get through
when the light and dark
are completely different
slants and hues,
when every moment’s routine
holds the unexpected news
of your absence.
Feed the cat.
Empty the dish rack.
Fold the blanket.
Clear the answering machine.
Pick up the empty can
tossed out by the mailbox.
Bless the dust which
can be wiped away,
dirty laundry that can be washed clean,
the path that can be shoveled clear of snow.
Bless the hungry cat.
~ Helen Falandes – 2/07
Start Again Now
Start again now
As often as needed
Choking on the dust of falling walls
Gather stones and bricks
Start again now
Glue the broken edges
Match up at least
The larger pieces
Start again now
Dislodge what blocks
The narrow airway
Hear ragged breath
As new music
Start again now
Gather the wooly tangles
Take two sticks
Re-knit any pattern
That forms itself to cloth
~ Helen Falandes
English 
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