Your husband held the post office door for me
and yours flashed his lights at the intersection,
signaling for me to go first. Your husband
read The Globe sports section on the train, every
bit of it. We exchanged a look when a woman
two seats back answered her phone. Your husband
knelt in the plaza to tie his shoe, his backpack
slipping off his shoulder, a green apple escaping
from the unzipped pouch and landing at my feet.
In the lunch line ahead of me, your husband
ordered a Greek salad and at the last minute
added a molasses cookie from the basket
by the register. Across the office at his desk,
your husband stretched his arms above his head,
arched his back, sighed, and returned his attention
to the screen. On the train home, your husband
played Candy Crush, his gym bag taking up
the space between us. I found your husband
puttering around the kitchen when I stopped in
to pick up my son. Offering of a taste
of his home brew, he asked how I was doing.
I thought about it, and then pulled up a chair.
Amy M. Clark’s book Stray Home (Vassar Miller Prize in Poetry 2009, University of North Texas Press 2010), was a Must-Read 2011 selection by the Massachusetts Council for the Book. Her poems have been featured on the Writer’s Almanac and Verse Daily; in the anthologies Good Poems, American Places (Viking 2011) and Old Flame: 10 Years of 32 Poems Magazine (WordFarm 2012); and in various journals, including The Cincinnati Review, Cream City Review, and Cave Wall. She lives near Boston.