I’ve become a wife.
I make red sauce
I suck up cat litter with a cheap weak vacuum and
I remove crusts from pans with a battered spatula
I yearn.
I forget what it is to cry over the skyline
I don’t get to capitalize that letter “I” anymore
i vacuum the cat hair
i regret
and bring my very worst self to you
i am a poet i am not that.
i used to be an animal that felt everything through my fur and my heart
i wrung the neck of life
i am now a normal person and i don’t
i don’t feel like I should. Do that.
i have what i wanted
i still see the grey blue blanket of sky and give thanks
i still dance like a scarecrow in hot strong wind
i still exist
i may still exist
Photo courtesy of Paolo Ferla
