Monday, November 30, 2015


Thank you, husband, for loving me 
even when I was not loveable,
for calling me by my true name 
and no other, for being my home
and always close by, 
for the lovely sounds but also
the quietude, the coolness and calm,
your courage and goodness.
Thank you for enabling me to sleep soundly 
through 13,000 nights.
Thank you for all this and for all 
the other vital things. 

Saturday, November 28, 2015


I say to me, 
move away from the shore,
move deep, 
move beyond the swells, below the waves and roar 
down into seabed, 
move along the reefs, along the vents, crawl with crabs, 
join your grief down there. 
Do not faint,
by that I mean let it move 
and let it be moved in you
which is to say 
accept your being, 
let grief have its way, 
which is to say, 
yes he is gone now and you 
will always, always know it. 

Monday, November 23, 2015

A special offer

Gone boy, what can I say 
about you to my friends 
over drinks? 
That I walk this house making sounds
that become your name? 
That I pull on my own hair?
That I'm startled awake,
my mouth chewed by ants, my throat 
sore from their scratching? 
What can I say? 
What can they say?
Silenced in pity as I think of you 
rusting barefoot on our bed 
so I talk of Macy's special offer, 
this new cologne I'm wearing, 
its bright scent bursts from my handbag 
like confetti. 

Thursday, November 19, 2015

For example

I wonder how to live now 
that I'm not a wife.

For example, I needn't say,
Art, I'll be back at four. 

Nor need I return at four.
I needn't return by five
or six or really ever now
that I'm not a wife.

I won't be talking anymore.
For example, when I wake,
I make coffee, watch the news, 
dress and check the mail, 
all this and more
without a single word. 

And all the chores 
are mine now. 
That hammer on his desk?
It's mine though I could 
easily miss the nail.
And if I scream 
not a soul would hear 
now that I'm not a wife.