Wednesday, June 17, 2009

9 poems from SGVPQ #42

Theresa Antonia


The things they took

1. An old leggo my eggo box, full to the brim, with paperwork, from the first divorce.

2. “I love you” folded twice on yellow legal paper, tucked in the side pocket of the briefcase, stuffed with old deeds from the desert property, he no longer has anymore, either.

3. Every single photo album or framed picture of the baby, in case of a fire, she said.

4. The computer, with the porno web sites still marked on the history, and the e-mail letter his mother-in-law wrote- about what it takes to have a good marriage.

The things they left behind

1. Matching motorcycle jackets from when they tried to conceive a baby, but couldn’t, so he taught her to ride together instead.

2. Small shampoo bottles, from that little roadside hotel along Big Sur, from the honeymoon.

3. Magnetic Photos, stuck to the refrigerator, with no longer mutual friends, each, holding the baby.

4. While he pretended to sleep so he wouldn’t have to kiss the baby goodbye that last morning, the still echoing sound of his child calling out “daddy”.

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