Second Anniversary, Marriage #2 by April Salzano
I keep forgetting the date, yet so much more
is at stake. I cannot not play it out,
how it would end. This one
would be worse, even
though it should be easier. No division
of property to take place, that equation
is the simplest math: you everything, me nothing.
I will take my 2 pieces of furniture, 2
end tables, the oak pocked from moving,
not factory-distressed, though I let people think so.
2 kids, 1 dog. I could probably argue
for a few linens and the cutlery
with the wooden handles I still have from college,
but you have grown so attached.
I’ll just leave those behind. Maybe.
It all depends on why we are ending it,
hypothetically, of course. If you cheated,
all bets are off. I’m taking it all, even the squirrels
at the birdfeeder. But if you just got tired
of listening to me trying to teach you
this new language I like to call open communication,
I would simply make my way back out
through the door I came in,
not so much damaged as defeated.