The Grout Line

The newsletter says she’s a partner now.

I’m eating a yogurt that expired yesterday

and zooming in on her renovation photos.

I don't care about the marble.

I want to see the grout

behind the designer toaster.

I want to find a stain,

a missed spot, a bit of mold

to prove she’s as messy as I am.

The phone screen goes black.

Battery at zero.

I’m just looking at my own forehead

in the dark glass.