Terricloth Closing.

I got a splinter that morning
because i was nervouse
running my fingers into the tiny intricate grooves
you hadn't put finnish on the table yet.
it was freshly cut, still raw bleeding pine.

you wore chrisp starch linens,
the curly bits of your chest hair
catching and releasing the v neck collar of your shirt.
"swweeeetheart" the words: a tourtis escaping from prison.

there was not a drop of coffee left
but i put the chipped china cup to my lips
to catch the mantra from spilling out onto the table,
"i am not ready for this conversation"

you became a johny cash concert
singing your blues without remorse or recourse.
you could say the word i never said,
my mother never said, my family never said:
"divorce."

i reknotted my robe over and over
making sure it closed tightly
i couldn't let you see your
marching band of declaration stoming on my insides.

your eyes retreated to the newspaper, the local section
with the picture of Council-Woman Freeman
her left arm raised proud with a glass of milk,
toasting the patrons who voted her into office.


...