tile

the crack was small when we first moved in.
nothing but a fracture in the blue tile
of the bathroom. 
white paint was still drying
on the walls of our apartment. we had to live
in the centers 
of rooms. we saw our first cockroach
& i smashed it until it was just a pair of wings.
the building pulsed like an animal around us.
footsteps late into the night
& children knocking on the door 
at sunrise. winter came & i watched 
the crack widen every day in the shower.
somedays the hot water would not kick on
& i bathed with a washcloth
staring down the crack. deep in the coldest months
i first started to hear it laugh. 
you told me you didn't hear anything.
just a giggle & then a full belly cascade.
by spring pieces started to fall out.
i no longer knew why we lived there
or why i woke up so early or who i should
ask for help when the ceiling started
leaking again. frantic one day
i got on my knees & tried to put the tiles
back into the wall. it was not just one piece then
it was a pile in the tub. shards. like ancient teeth.
i wept, wondering if there was a time
i could have stopped this. you came 
& sat with me. above, children ran 
back in forth in their own private heavens.
you asked me, "do you want 
to try & leave?" at first i didn't know
we were talking about the apartment.
i heard "leave" & i thought of steering wheels 
& kicking a hole in the sun
to drink all the tangerine we could.