No. 18

The whirring fan annoys me

I am a hot nerve today

My hands twist and shake

As the exposed wire crisps

Curtains frame a world washed gray

His heavenly blue eyes bounce

From me to the window

My husband broad-shouldered and kind

Purses his lips

But says nothing

He senses the pain in my creased brow

Smells dampness in my soul


As if to say

We’ve got this me and you


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