For My Ex-Husband’s Twin Sons (1)

by on June 12, 2017 :: 0 comments

Summer 1996

That summer we still believed in astrology.
Anything could happen. I could learn to drive
stick shift. The Indian astrologer predicted that
my soon-to-be ex-husband would father twin sons,
mother unknown.

All summer stringy-haired women wandered
in and out of the apartment. The hems
of their long skirts were as frayed
as my marriage was. The women brought
bruised fruit and scotch-taped paperbacks of esoteric
philosophy stinking of patchouli. Home from work,
I drank Café Bustelo with whole milk.
One woman stood barefoot in the backyard,
warning me about the man I liked.
All she needed to know was his
birth date.

I imagined driving away with Balzac’s novels
in my trunk. I popped the clutch
and went nowhere.

editors note:

When Mercury is in the house, apparently, strange women come, too. (We welcome Marianne to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay

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