I never knew I never wanted a marriage.
We tried this thing and it
tested and exhausted,
pillaged and sucked the life from us.
And still some say it looked fine.
We could have lived this life
ordinary and clichéd,
blandly and without joy,
and go through the predictable
motions determined for us
and slowly lose breath and die,
and on our tomb stones would be the words
we did what was expected of us.
And so I thank you for not
relegating and imprisoning,
punishing and sentencing me,
To a life of that kind of boredom.
And now we can both breathe sighs of relief
knowing no fault lies with the other.
It was simply something
we did not know we did not want.
I Think I’ll Take a Lover
I think I’ll take a lover
who pulls me towards them
in the early hours of morning
when the rest of the world is asleep;
the dust of love’s chalk still powdery and soft
on our lips, our skin, our fingertips.
Eyelids heavy from the night’s communion.
Outside the songbird
rouses his throaty voice,
the diviner of dawn breaking,
while my lover moves above me
and through me
and fills me in places
I hadn’t realized empty
And those I did.
Bio: AM Hirst lives in the Kansas City area and is currently pursuing a BA in English with an emphasis in Creative Writing while drafting a third novel.