Marriage

I explain. You
hear shouting. You
regroup. I see
you’ve picked my scab.

You are reasonable. I
see shades clipped onto your bifocals. I
aplogize profusely. You
sniff out expedience.

I am a nice Jewish dove. You
say I’m crazy, like Saul. You
throw me an olive branch. I
am cut by its thorns.

You gush blood. I
see no tears. You
will not take a dive. I
have loved you for eleven years.

—Ivor Irwin