I can’t begin
to write about him,
for I don’t
Since when did money make a man
And not the other way around?
“It wasn’t always this way,” he said,
turning the cab uptown. “It used to be a man
was a man who thought of others.”
He shook his head back and forth,
across the park. I blink to think about it,
remembering the headdresses of chiefs
and love notes from open-hearted boys
I’ve been to see at the museum.
Taming lions is the first thing that comes to mind
The first sequence is the sequins, if you will.
Syria seems likely somehow, given how brave you are
or maybe you’ve been up four hours before me
teaching high school history, though it’s probable
too you’re sleeping still, ahead of this evening’s matinee.
Who’s to say? Certainly not me.
Though I’d have preferred another ten years with you,
the stories you filled them with will have to do.
It surprises her that planning a
life without a husband is so much
more peaceful than planning a wedding
without a groom. In the three years since,
she regrets not
one penny spent on the rose
bouquets she’s bought herself, and
has long stopped plucking the
petals to see who loves her, or not.
She only hopes
that, after everything,
she will find real him in time
for the end of everything.
She has never swum in the ocean
or grown a garden
with someone she truly loved.