On Our Silver Anniversary: Love Does Not Boast, But It Does Take Notes
Twenty-five years
since we agreed to this and still,
I vow to be there,
just outside your line of sight,
as you confidently mispronounce quinoa,
as you decide, again, that the best way
to check if the pan is hot
is to touch it.
I vow to say nothing
as you eyeball the rice-to-water ratio,
as you insist the foundation holds weight,
as you press snooze believing
time is different for you.
I vow to remain clogged-drain quiet
as you tell the plumber,
No, I got it.
As you grab the Tupperware
stamped Do Not Microwave.
I vow to never stop you,
never correct you,
never intervene—
just smile softly,
like god’s understudy
only to exist,
always,
just beyond your reach,
a presence, a history, a silent witness
to your worst ideas,
like a Liberty half-dollar trapped in a garbage disposal,
like a key locking the door from the outside.
Copyright ©
Jaymee Thomas
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