Reciprocal

by Marilyn Krysl

You come in your nightgown, clutching the small, sweaty bouquet of your worries: fifteen pages every night and you're not a fast reader! Draw a map of Iran, name the mountains between France and Spain, all this by tomorrow! The teacher writes fabulous across your subtraction but you're not convinced. The twilight is ruined. And gym three times a week-what an outrage, you will write to the President! You are sorry but it will be impossible to ever to do the dishes again. I take your flowers, my vase fills with evening. A new moon rests on the rim. We spell magnitude as it goes down. I pull back the sheet, part your hair straight: there. A glass of milk. I fill as you drink. I am the gifted one, the one who is grateful.