BURYING MY HUSBAND

You sure have slept with a lot of husbands

to never be anyone’s wife

and at first this loneliness feels something like karma.

The wedding dream once dense as a tower of cake

stacked 4 tiers high and iced with buttercream is suddenly cultured down into a hard, sharp sliver on the tongue.

You can remember how the dream still loomed

that time you binge watched “Say Yes to the Dress”

with your ex-boyfriend

while he grinded his teeth and asked to borrow money.

And it was still there on your 31st birthday when nothing

at all exceptional happened.

No one sending flowers to your cubicle for the

office ladies to coo over.

No one else as excited about this day as you.

You know it lingered at Christmas last year when,

alone and drunk on spiked cider,

you locked yourself in the bathroom clutching an

arrangement of makeup brushes

and pink daisy razors,

a toilet paper train tucked into your pantyhose

while you wept thru three tubes of the good mascara.

But then,

you woke up one day as though the first day of some 5th season

starfished in the middle of your queen-size bed

and rolled around in the consideration that you owe

to absolutely no one

on whether or not to get up and do the dishes or spend half

the day in bed browsing the Ikea catalog for a duvet cover

for which only your opinion matters before getting up and knowing that there are takeout leftovers

from the night before

that no one else has eaten

or taking a shower knowing all of the hot water

is yours for the taking and it all feels like some kind of great love story;

You + last night’s Lo Mein

You + an obscenely floral duvet

You + all of this lavish space

You + all of this delicious silence

You + this in-ground pool

of non-obligation to anyone at all.