(not) sorry

i’m sorry i didn’t write you a poem today,
but there was just one face stuck in my mind.
it met me as i was brushing my teeth
and then found me in the coffee grounds
that flew onto the counter with a sudden burst
of static when i opened the grinder drawer.
it wandered off during breakfast but came back
when i was washing up, peeking out from
among the coffee cups in the cabinet.
it smiled down from my office walls
and laughed from every bookshelf in the room.
i told myself i wouldn’t see it, would ignore it,
but then it came waltzing through the kitchen
while i was sweeping and sat down at the table
to ask about the progress of my day and listen —
so i’m not sorry i wrote you a poem after all.