Year 28

            Year 28            July 15 2007

In a rare moment of composure he says, with sincerity,
“So, how are you doing?”
Meaning, with our separation.
“I’m okay,” I say, my cards close to my chest.
He says something else, indicating his concern,
And I thank him.

The way it works:
1) You have the property appraised.
2) You file the court paperwork
3) You have a garage sale.
4) You sell the big furniture for too little and give away the bed.
5) You pour the goldfish into a pond.

The cat follows you around meowing.

In truth, I am going feral.
No more a house cat.
But out with the wild.

But I am not crying anymore
I am not anguishing
Nor interceding, nor petitioning
I am packing.
Deliberately, carefully, moderately, slowly,
Quietly.

The shocks of losing
Husband, marriage, that future,
That property, that persona, that covenant
Have shaken me all out
But I stand.  I’m still standing.