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,
Oh Daddy, Daddy,
I’m too old and no longer pretty enough
To be acting this way.
Tucking the tide over my child body.