by ELIZABETH ENDERLE
The time has come again
To change the tiles in the hall
Cracks and spreads between them
Grout worn away
By the unwarranted rubbing of fingers
He came from the store
With samples to try
Against the colors of the wall
That was no matter
“It hides the stains!”
A dark shade, speckled with granite grays and crimson
Dirt brown and tawny creams and unsightly things
“It hides the stains!”
And so we bought
That awful color of tile
That now resides in the hall
Without stain or blemish
Exempt is the dark taupe
Of a smudge of dirt
So precisely dragged
On a taupe patch of stone
Exempt is the dark green
Of a patch of neglected mold
So cautiously grown
With the walls of a green splotch on the tiles
Exempt is the dark crimson
Of a few drops, source unknown
So deliberately fallen
On the splatters of red in the stone
Falling to the ground once
Looking from the level of the tiles in the hall
I see the stains
Hidden before
Now they are stuck to the tiles
Painfully, I sigh
The time has come again
To change the tiles in the hall