Ten years ago around this steamy time of year, I was engaged.
Unless I really dig deeply in the fecund soil of pettiness, I cannot say anything bad about her. (In fact, all I can say is that I regret how I treated you and how I ended our relationship. Any present relational sufferings are a well-deserved penance for my past thoughtlessness.) Our relationship was simply–if simply can ever be applied to a relationship–one that should never have happened in the first place, but once it did, neither one of us wanted to let go.
We, eventually, let go.
I found this poem that I wrote about a fight that we once had in her kitchen when, for whatever reason, I started to throw perfectly good eggs into the sink. I unleashed my anger in a manner that could then be easily cleaned.
Though my primary focus is now prose, my earliest writing aspirations were poetry.
What I Think as I Watch You Apply Makeup
Throwing six eggs into the sink—at that time—
Seemed like an acceptable form of anger management.
You wondered that if I would chuck chicken plasma at steel,
What might be other targets: you, the cat, any peaceful morning?
Platonic paradigms reveal themselves as unwieldy,
Clanging against each rung on the ladder of love.
Another time you asked what I was thinking—
Dare I explain: a disordered love, the passions, and the appetites?
Metaphysics, the theological virtues, and the nape of your neck;
Reject any divinity that refuses to incarnate itself.
A lingering hope prevents me from confessing that I will never be
A founding myth, an oft-told romantic tale, or a breathing sonnet.
Yet, Odysseus rejected Calypso and her offer of immortality
For his wife, Penelope, and their bed built from a still-living tree.
Likewise, frustrating you as I cultivate the habit of failing,
I reject Euclidean symmetry in order to tangle myself up with you.