AS I CONTEMPLATE MY SECOND DIVORCE

COURTNEY LEBLANC

 
 

I

I wasn’t sure I’d marry again –

my first marriage burned

down so brilliantly

it didn’t matter that I held

the matches in my hand,

my fingers blacked,

my hair singed –

I couldn’t comprehend

repeating it.

 
II

Alcohol fueled our first

night together, the next

morning I asked

your name as I handed

you a cup of coffee.

 
III

When you punched

the wall I drove

you to the ER. Sat silent

as they applied the plaster.

I plastered

the growing break

in my heart. Six months

later I made

you leave.
 
IV

Counseling. Therapy. Reconciliation.

Talking and talking and talking

it out. A vacation, a ring,

a surprise wedding. I trade

my name for yours,

something I didn’t

do the first time.
 
V

That damn red cape constantly

waving in front of your eyes

till you charge –

nostrils flaring, feet pounding,
rage exploding.

You tell me you hate

everything
about your life. You do not

exclude me.

 
VI

I substitute wine

for food, google

divorce in Virginia,
fall asleep with my make-up on,

wake up when it’s still

dark, don’t cry.
 

 
 

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