|The 2River View Authors • Poems • PDF • 2RV Past Issues • 2River|
To return to what I was saying—
You are indulgent, your mother thinks, to waste
When her lower jaw began to protrude at a young age
done something for her.
If just to curb the physical anguish
Let it go—
the somatizing tendency.
There is already a lifetime of room
—where else could she have discovered
The Sleepwalker’s Wife
Trying to crack a can of tuna against a bowl, stirring
of iced tea mix, or searing baloney,
His midnight chopping—
was a gift, a rare biological talent.
was not precise
But he never slipped
were both staring and void,
through which he must have seen
what he was looking for.
was not so different. The night he left,
a few dishes for the encore supper.
as he got to his feet. The garage lifting into the world.
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