BY HOLLY DAY
Copyright is held by the author.
I pretend to be content with our conversations
because I still like having sex with him
and I am afraid that, even after all these years
that if I don’t keep him talking
don’t act interested in what he’s saying
he might decide to leave. Even after sleeping beside him
for more than a decade
I’m afraid that if I don’t hang on every word he says
nod approvingly at all the right moments
in his ramblings about cars and work
that he’ll decide I’m also not very interesting
wonder why he’s sitting next to me at all.
Some days, I’m afraid to even let him go outside
in case he runs into the woman he’s supposed to be with
the one who finds all these musings
on back spasms and diarrhea attacks,
problems with his mother
his problems with my mother
completely fascinating and absorbing and yes
I know she is somewhere out there
waiting in the mismatched groves of birch and pine outside our home
hungering for what I will never let her have.