My Heart the Size of a Tea Kettle

What I brew in me
your tongue no longer tastes.

Do you believe passion
or security

ruins the palette?
We once boiled red

like the most glorious

and at the worst times.
Sip me

before I’m lukewarm,
before the whistle of regret

keeps us awake.
Dear love, last night

I walked in the rain
dressed only in a bathrobe. I bought

a little kettle on sale
and am convinced our lives

will be better now.
I am not sad

when I say this. I am not quite
unsad either.

If there is one thing to be said
about marriage or monogamy

there is another thing entirely
to be undone. Clean or dirty

is how I divide the day.
After you leave

or before you come home.
The more I smell

of cleaning products
the messier it means I am.

The toilet, the kitchen sink,
every closet–this house

is yours to pollute.
I’ve been alone

in it
for many, many hours.

Look around.
There’s no trace of me.

It’s as if
I don’t even exist.