GRITOS

It comes

every half hour

from the woods

from the back yard

from the lake

from my neighbors

and again, from the houses

with all their curtains and televisions.

It comes, not unlike

the bluejay splits

silence, pine needles, trying

their best to imitate a red hawk.

It comes so often, I forget

to look at the driveways

and automatic doors—

grocery carts with the stick

of ice cream and empty

pop cans with their cries

for food, for comfort,

for no reason at all.

I reach for my husband’s hand,

childless. No swell of my breasts

and belly. No cry, no chocolate chips,

or cereal in my purse—

barren as a blue sky.

ON READING A LOVE POEM WHERE THE SPEAKER ALLOWS HERSELF TO GET

SICK BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T WANT TO SLEEP WITHOUT HER HUSBAND

When I read, they slept together

I didn’t think it was sweet

I didn’t think I would do the same thing

I didn’t think, this is what love is.

My husband started with a sore throat

And I heard him the night before

So I gave him coffee, coffee that when served

Is hot, hot. Not hot, but times two

Like how we appear. I put you

In a room first, then I enter.

I can’t help it

You look nicer then me

And you are taller and therefore

Can periscope a room.

You, who are downstairs behind

A wall of plastic—the blue tape

All that protects me from you.

I didn’t think, oh my husband

I want to hold you.

I had to put my mask on

I didn’t have the luxury

Of making myself sick

As if I could prove how much

I didn’t care about myself.

I didn’t think there could be

Any way I could sleep

With out my husband

Whose face is hidden

Whose touch I have to imagine

Alone like all those times

He flew away on business

And couldn’t listen to the mixtapes

I made him.

My husband

Who didn’t want to leave me

Who began taking me

With him

Even though I was afraid to fly

We held hands and I thanked

Everyone when we landed.

My husband is sick.

I have a terrorist in my body

Who hides in my lungs

Until he can reveal

His sparkling eyes

For the camera

Which lights me up

From the inside

And my husband

Deciphers the code of the little birds

Who scratch my breath, my husband

Who knows I love him

Even as I slide his food

Beneath a curtain

Protecting me from him, my love

Who waits for his fever

To cool and we don’t want to do it,

But because we love each other

We stay six feet apart

We say I love you

I miss you, this is all

So temporary

Like the wave that presses

Back to the sea

Making what crashes into the shore

A veil of hair I once pulled

From his face before I kissed it.