Sonnet for an Absent Spouse
I almost wrote “an empty house,” but it isn’t, still three of four
on site: Son, and dog and me. In your absence, I chauffeur Son
and walk the dog. I text “I miss you.” Is that the vodka (80 or more?
calories) talking? Or maybe it’s the delicious and necessary wine
(5 ounces Merlot = 120 calories) that makes my thumbs light.
When I miss you, I drink whiskey (110 calories), I let Son spend more
time watching “Firefly” on his computer to avoid the nightly fight.
I imagine expensive additions to our home: a deck, French doors
opening off our master bedroom and into the backyard, fertile
with rosemary, tomatoes, chard, sunflowers, and orange poppies.
When you are gone, I am uncharacteristically morose. I wile
the hours away reading actuary charts which forecast our untimely
demise. It’s not wise, the way I spend my time. Wait: that’s a lie.
I imagine the hours we’ll spend, sipping wine, until we die.