Monday, July 14, 2014

Overread at the Counter: Once


we floundered, and then our love
was this dead thing, that we dissected
with a pair of pruning hooks on the
floor of the shed out back behind the house.

we did it quietly,
so the neighbors could not hear us over the garden wall,
burying the pieces in various spots in the yard:
under the flower bed,
in the potted plant,
and one tiny shard that I crushed into the soft earth
moistened by the slow constant drip from the
outside faucet that I never could get around to fixing.

then, the next day, we walked out the front
door and you went to the bus station and
I took the car into the city

and no one was ever the wiser.


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