Is it time to split the assets
like two bitter divorcees?
You let me keep the necklace
and I’ll give you the picture I took.
The one with your foolish optimism
on the night things went too far.
Can I keep the song you sang to me?
The one about a shaky tree-house
held together by glue and secrets.
The man who goes to Ohio
and doesn’t forget he loves the woman he left behind.
You say you worship the gods
of garlic, oil, wine, and bamboo.
But I think you sacrifice to Mary.
Mary on a cross of birth, breathing, and omission.
What does it mean that grief is held in the lungs
and stress is stored in the groin?
I guess we couldn’t survive
the last cold front before Spring.
I wonder if we’d still be OK
if you were a little more protective
of your moon when the Sun came out in the morning.
Instead of your pointed cruelty
when you spit my name and say, “Of course, Cherry, she’s my wife.”
Could you approach me as gently as you approach her?
Are you afraid she’ll break?
Or maybe she’s dangerous.
