“You didn’t get very much sleep last night,”
my husband says to me,
as if I was not aware.
“Do you know why that is?”
he asks. Actually, I don’t.
Maybe it’s the Hormuz Strait
closed again, or that Sabrina Carpenter
brought Madonna out at Coachella,
or probably the Aries new moon,
some hormone imbalance
I don’t know about, or even
just whatever we ate
for dinner. Mayhaps it’s
stress, or the CNN story
about men who swap tips
on how to drug and rape their wives
uncaught. From a YouTube video
I found out how to check
your router history—
no worries, my husband
has only looked at houses
and cars for sale, and bought
an obscene number of cigars
in the last three months. He wasn’t
learning how to rape. So I am not
worried.
Or it’s how suddenly,
inexplicably, we are now people
who use those laundry beads—
the ones that just make your clothes smell
extra soapy but don’t clean at all,
during an economy when belts
are getting tighter all around.
I say, “I don’t know.”
We go about our morning
as if everything is normal.
Do you ever think about how
they never called it World War One
or World War Two when they were
happening?
We all know why that is.
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