While my husband’s in the kitchen cooking dinner
I’m in the back room, grateful for the scent
Marveling at his aptitude
Wondering how I have come to be
So fortunate
While my husband’s in the kitchen cooking dinner
I’m calculating how many grams of rice I’ll eat
Budgeting the results of his care
Fretting over the mass I could be feeding
On the thighs, hips, and breasts
That he loves to see spilling from
His hands
While my husband’s in the kitchen cooking dinner
One of our favourites, for me, for us;
I’m feeling the disappointment emanating
From everyone I’ve
Ever known
While my husband’s in the kitchen cooking dinner
I’m in the back room, wondering if the thoughts
Will one day win
Cutting our home
In half
The passively suicidal will continue to daydream
Of blessing their greatest loves with their absence
Unable to justify their being
So fortunate
While my husband’s in the kitchen cooking dinner
I’m in the back room, believing;
Believing; believing
He’d be better off
Cooking for someone else
Believing he’d be better off
Cooking for one than
For us
September 18 – 21, 2025
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