Something to Cry About
My sleep therapist recommends restructuring dreams
So that the outcomes don’t
Come out. My husband doesn’t leave me
For a woman who supports his athletic pursuits;
Washed ashore outside our dreamhome.
Real or un-, hideous thoughts at times
Prevail in me. I saved the keys to our torn-down
Building to give me something to cry about.
I went there one night and
I sat in the dusty bathtub, going,
we went to die
Oh Daddy, Daddy,
I’m too old and no longer pretty enough
To be acting this way.
Tucking the tide over my child body.