Self-Portrait at Divorce, and: Annealing, and: When I Kissed Her Right Breast, I Became Myself Entirely, and: Little Bishop Jellyfish

After reading Stag's Leap again and finally knowingwhat the hell Sharon Olds was writing about

The day my husband leftI accidentally set off the house alarmand the dog finally curled into my chestlike a warm croissant of cream fur and youhad replaced the trash bag for the last timeand the recycling and I walked intoyour office and I wept and wept insideyour pillow on our bed (whoops) I mean my beda California king our biggest bed yet becausewe wanted space for our long bodies to stretchand room for the dog to splay and I put waterin the dog bowl and I told myself that I had to rememberto do that because you had always done that simple taskand you often reminded me to do it when I forgot and I didn'twant our dog to die of thirst and you left a cup of wateron the end table by the couch we had picked out the year beforewe just walked into an Ashley furniture store on a Saturday and saton the first fake living room set and we said this is us like we knewwhat we wanted but we did that day (we did) and it was easy(which was rare for us) and I put your last cup of water to my mouthand I guessed where your mouth might have been on the rimand I pressed my lips to the glass (you always saidI had the nicest lips like two pillows you said)and I kissed the cup and poured out the rest of the waterinto the sink and it wasn't an offering to anythingand I put the cup in the dishwasher and I startedto tremble and the house seemed (smelled?) like it was a trainbut it was just the actual train that rumbles behind our house (I mean my house) and you called and told me you went to the hospitalfor chest pains and I wasn't with you at the walk-in clinicbut you said I was still your emergency contactand I slept on the couch that night because I didn't wantto sleep in our (I mean) my big bed and I wanted to grovel my wayback to the complacency of us and I wanted to grasp at the stomachof anyone and I wanted the almost happy home we had and I wantedto end the poem with gladness instead of the sound of the knife draweropening and closing opening and closing music of metals and cabinetwood jingle and the clink of steel blades and measuring spoonsrustling against their edges and contours and I didn't harm myselfbecause I did want to harm myself I wanted to feel the negotiationof pain besides the present pain and I wanted the body's paintto come (but I didn't do it OKAY) I just thought about itand I think I am proud of myself today for sitting down insidethe empty well of grief and looking up (I always forget to look up)and I keep walking into each room and staring at the objectsthat we bought together remembering fights at Target laughterat Target splitting up and conquering a to-do list at Targetand those little zapper guns they gave us at Target when weregistered for our wedding gifts and I haven't showeredin days I have a sourness to me and the lids of my eyesare swollen like tiny beige water balloons from all the sobbingand I didn't do it okay I didn't and I still want joy at the end,but the day my husband moved out it felt like the first real dayof fall because it was

Annealing

So what if I keep sniffing her shirt for the scent,the one she let me...