Let it Fall

 (c) 11/14/2021

I can’t shake him, my ex. Twenty-years

after the divorce he still occupies my dream houses,

knocking legs off the table,

littering his foul moods

for me to pick up.

 

I am tired of his returns--his heart

a shoddy foundation, mold and cracks up every wall,

the crawl filled with stagnant water

that will never reach an aquifer.

 

He has paid fornothing.

On his good days he struts, proud

of my accumulation he still feels is due him—

because he chose me as his mark,

some star-crossed Rapunzel who let him in.

 

See how he shies from open window and doors,

clinging to archways?

 

Finally, I suspect he fears my dormant strength—

the thunderbolts I could summon,

the volcanic rock sixty feet below.

 

If only I weren’t still trying to be nice.

 

I have let the Universe shake it in its own time,

refusing anger.

So many disappointing men, and I’ve made sure

they all land softly--nothing broken,

blinding any light that might come in.

 

The promise of a brighter future hinges

on his being gone. Now it seems

that my house has become

my heart’s grave.

 

Come daylight - how afraid we are

to draw the Tower.

The familiar, whether wanted or not

Dislodges.

 

I let it fall.