Wednesday, September 11, 2013

The Art of Mr. and Mrs.

Three weeks in the county clerk
misplaced our marriage license.
You were already painting bread pans
and blank pages in Photoshop.

I picked up the pen
and began reperfecting singularities,
practicing my balancing-act
verbs in stand-alone—
embrace, converse, tango.  

My fiction
never rang so true, glistening
wet as a newborn,
or as the 500 x 750 pixels
drying on your canvas.

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