January 13, 2021Remembering the Wedding
When a couple separates, it’s hard not to stick
with one and let the other go. Sitting on the fence,
you risk being reviled by people on both sides.
A friend says, “My wife came home and found me
with another woman. I tried to make a joke, said,
‘I got the laundry done.’ Really, what could I say?”
“Nothing,” I want to tell him, but keep still,
seeing the lover in bed, the washing machine,
the wife, the joke. Is that a joke?
His ex, also a friend, says, “I opened the door
and there he was with a woman I’d never seen,
each of them a bellow pumping oxygen on a fire.”
I admire this metaphor made when she was angry
and hurt. And I’ve always thought her attractive
though it’s not something I could tell her, even now.
I look out the window to the water, a tug
hauling a load of logs to the mill. The slices
of wedding cake laid out on their plates.
from #69 - Fall 2020