Contingencies

She started screaming today.
She’s normally so
quiet and she
sits at the back but today she
made a run for it.
She burst the windows open and
grabbing at the ledge she
let me have it into my
bones with
a guttural
roar I felt in my own
throat as she
ran her nails in between my
ribs
and filled up my lungs
with the air she’d
been saving up all this time.

I didn’t know how fed up she was.
Being a possible
contingency dressed
as an ideal and kept
in the back pocket
in case what I say isn’t good enough.
But she really
wants out now.
She’s tired of
crying for two,
eating for none
of anyone’s goals and
praying for sun
that’s bad for our skin but
she doesn’t care.
We’ll get wrinkles
either way.

The bargaining is over now.
She’s better than me
and it’s fine.
Her gentle suggestions
have become golden rule,
she’s made for the world
that’s ahead
and I’m tired.
For sanity is saved
by raising an eye,
by looking around and
pulling up from
a sodden ground
and even one handed
to heave your whole weight
is better than
crawling any further.

Published by R.T

Brit born and Canada bound, I run On Tuesdays, my poetry blog where I write weekly(ish) poems.

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