Sep 2, 2014

Only You, My Husband as Smokey the Bear

Written by Lauren Jensen

Read by Jenny Sadre-Orafai

I have lost all hope on keeping
the bathroom sink clean of fur. But then
I think of how lonely it is to be clean.
The way I was before you were
is a federally funded phrase that anyone
in a relationship can use so many words
blahblahblah to say just one: love or something
of the Two Bulls Fire still burning
but contained. Look how the wind lassos
the smoke through the pines. The way water falls
from helicopters as if the clouds listened
and filled with the fury that we prayed for
in the only language we know: to beg.
You hang your ranger hat on the elk shed
by the door. Suspend your blue suspenders
like a life long pledge over the back of a chair,
rub the darkness around your eyes. Paw
open to my hand then the button on my jeans.
So desperately we long for thumbs.

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