Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2019  Vol. 18 No. 1
an online journal of literature and the arts
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The Disappearing Wife

“For the love of God, why don’t you leave me?” I said. “I have no place else
to go,” Patty said. “You could go to your mother’s,” I said. “I hate
her,” she said. “How about your sister?” “I don’t trust her,” she said.
“Your uncle?” “He’s a pervert,” she said. “You don’t like anybody,” I
said. “Not anybody in my family,” she said. “How about your friend,
Suzanne?” I said. “She’s a snake,” she said. “And Paolo?” I said. “Not
over my dead body,” she said. “You’re right, you have no place to go,”
I said. “No place,” she said. “Then why don’t you just stay here and be happy,”
I said. “I can’t stay here, I hate you,” she said. “No, you don’t, you just think
you do,” I said. “I’d rather be dead,” she said. “I’ll help you,” I said.
“I told you, I don’t want your help,” she said. “No, I meant I’ll help you
be dead,” I said. “A fine husband you are,” she said. “I’m just trying to help,”
I said. “You’re trying to kill me,” she said. “I am not. I want to help
you find what you want,” I said. “Well, I’m leaving,” she said. “Alright,
go ahead and go,” I said. “But I have no place to go,” she said. “It will
build your character,” I said. “What will?” she said. “Finding a place when
you have no place to go,” I said. “Oh, fuck you, I’m leaving,” she said.
I watched her pack and stomp out the door. The house was suddenly quiet.
I stared at the door as if she would be back, but she wasn’t. Where would
she go? She had no place. I paced the floor. I stared out the window.
I felt sick to my stomach. I went to bed. When I woke I was in a forest
somewhere. I had never seen anything like it. Vines were hanging from
the trees. A fox was staring at me. But when I tried to stand up he
ran away. I thought I saw Patty standing in the shadows. I
called out to her, but she disappeared.  

   Nine Posthumous Poems

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