How to Fight

You were gaining weight. You were
a slow continent, moored to
my feet. "We have reasons,
we have reasons, so we
say-"

That day, by the
supermarket, your plastic bag
sputtered two bottles of wine
and one jar of tomato sauce
on to the floor. No warm
dinner, no happy glow-

It looks like a crime
scene, you said. The wind
interrupted. Oh, crumpled
afternoon. I stared at my
shoes; you already
knew.




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