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.