fight poem

My cousin(in-law)’s book of poems came out last week and, in a blaze of glory, immediately skyrocketed to number one on the NY Times paperback bestseller’s list, can you even imagine? (I can’t, but it’s true!) 

Last night my husband picked up the book and started flipping through, reading, reading, reading.

I cut him a look. “You’re more absorbed in that book than you were in mine.” 

“This book is finished, Jen. Yours isn’t.”

As though that makes any difference.

And then— “Listen to this,” and he read out loud:

The moment in the argument
when the only sound between us
is the buzz of locusts, cars from a
passing street, God licking her
fingertips, wondering how this is
going to go.

We both burst out laughing. God licking her fingertips! Oh, yes.

Later, talking in bed, my husband rudely interrupted more than once and I fell silent. 

Him: So now you’re not talking to me. 
Him: It’s really quiet. [Beat] Is God licking her fingers? 

And we both busted up laughing all over again. 

Thank you, Kate. And congratulations! We’re all so very proud of you.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (11.19.18), spiced applesauce cake with caramel glaze, sock curls, the quotidian (11.19.12), orange cranberry bread, Swiss chard and sweet potato gratin, peanut butter cream pie.

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