Anniversary (Work in Progress)



I’ve been listening to our neighbors pack up to leave as I stir to keep the rice from burning.

What did they find out

in the time between our wedding

and one year later? Did we interrupt

their silence on the other side of the wall,

listened to usual moving day chatter

about the thrift store table,

soap dishes,

and items we hoarded for a month?

The clink of utensils on china as we spooned our first Sunday meal

seeped through the walls with the savory aroma as we sat down to

meat loaf (your favorite)

mashed potatoes,

and corn I knew you wouldn’t touch.


Did they ever pass us by on the street or the mall,

catch a glimpse of our courtship, then reminisce?

Like us, they are married too, so they probably nod

patiently as we balance grocery bags on the edge

of bursting, knowing the debates before us

(does ketchup go in the pantry? The fridge?).

It’s the little things that creep into the honeymoon

phase as we notice the fine creases in our upbringing

like the way he calls for a washcloth before a shower,

and I simply call it a “small towel”.

Or how he wakes up early while I savor the sleep in

on a day off.

Yes, the little differences, but

Did they understand how the night and day

of  you and me

completed the bricks


before our first key,



I’m hearing a voice rise for someone in another room. I’m opening the oven to check on the progress of our evening plans.

How soon before they realized we were night owls,

hearing entwined laughter,

the glow of a TV screen at 1 am,

before submissions to sleepy kisses

and a fluid embrace?

We found how to appreciate quiet

after our entry level grind,

let tourists have Bourbon Street

as we sank together on the couch,

then soak in another molasses Sunday.


They are hauling furniture to the moving van. I’m setting

the table as the meatloaf cools.

Soon, it will be just me and you again,

left to discover more of the post-altar underground,

daytime adult business,

and drowsy eyes at the orange-pink

view from the balcony once dusk sets in.

Listening to how we survived another day

creating a unit from the supernatural seed,

still life moments fit for the  Polaroid

while looking back, but today, coping

with my jumpiness as you silently

enter the living room for the first time

all over again.




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