Another day of staring out
the window. Maybe she’s thinking
what to make for dinner or what
to do with her life. It was different
on the way here. The pre-engagement
flutters, the waiting for the ring.
Life was one big carnival then,
ferris wheel climbing her up to
the sky, tickle of birdfeather
rushing past her ear. List
of important things: what to wear
to look sexy, ten ways to turn on
a man. Sex, too, was magical,
the moves they discovered together,
replaying them after he left. But
love, like any bird, gets tired of
flying and looks for a place to next.
So one day, he pulls out a ring and
they soar for awhile with wedding plans
and guest lists, maybe even talk of a child.
It’s all enough until one day, she starts
replaying it after he leaves for work.
List of important things: shopping, laundry,
letting someone know you’re alive. Her
life itself, small as the space inside a wedding
ring, or the width of a tired eye looking
out the window and up at the sky.