Mag 296

1 Joachim Bueckelaer 1560

Joachim Buecklaer, 1560

I went to the market today,

Gathering a feast for the week’s apologies.

I am not wrong, I have always been civil,

Poised even when tempered under your misogynistic boot.

I held my breath waiting for you to come home.

I held my breath until the brume of my misplaced tears

Summoned the four walls around me like a bodice.

You were drunk and curd-faced on arrival.

I forgave you the lack of conversation.

I forgave your piss-soaked trousers and slovenly dress.

I forgave your irascible humor and ingratitude.

I even forgave myself the arsenic employed

to rid me of your pestilence.