Say your madras shorts are dirty and I hate those shorts
I could write

Love is why I refuse to do the laundry
or
If you love me, you should wear chinos.

It’s painting to avoid a conversation.

Like when you tell me the milk is sour, and then put it back
In the fridge, I might write an ode to grocery stores

Fluorescent promises of ten steaks for the price of one.

And in another book another wife has written
About her husband who refuses to take off
His madras shorts and replace the milk.

But she never uses the words husband, or shorts, or milk.
Hers is a page about anteaters, yet it’s clear
She and I suffer the same.

You really should go to the store.