Sunday Night Kitchen
Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.
Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.
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It's not the grand gestures. It's not the airport sprint, the boom box on the lawn.
When you stand in front of everyone you know and a few people you don't.
Other men describe their wives like cars they've owned too long. I refuse.
I didn't marry the man who brought flowers. I married the man who noticed I was crying in the kitchen and didn't ask why—just stood there and washed the dishes.
The restaurant was too loud, so we came home early. Now the anniversary flowers
For sixty years, they have disagreed about tea. He leaves the bag too long.
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