Seven Year Itch May 1, 2008

This poem is a little sad for me now, and a bit ironic. I divorced him the next year.

 

SEVEN YEAR ITCH

 

 

Husband, I’ve worn you for so long

you’re a little ragged around the edges,

but soft and comfortable as a T-shirt.

So Carolina’s a surprise.

 

You walk on the shore while I sleep.

Steeped in salty mist, skin cold,

you hold me when you return, but

I don’t know this grey-eyed selchie

who’s slipped between my sheets.

Sleek, hair slicked against your skull,

you seduce me, reduce me to blood and muscle.

You take my affection in a new direction.

 

I think I understand now why

seven represents perfection.

 

“Seven Year Itch.” Jimson Weed, vol. XXV, new series vol. 9, no. 2 (Fall 2006).