Our faults crept like fungus over bark.The difference? Shades of decay.Mine being lighter.We were in our own hospital then.You didn’t know me,only my scent and lack of courtesy.You acted original, boastful of your designer robe,invented a non-spill bedpan and needle-free IV line.Something to look forward to.See my wig?Woven over time, like my attachment to you.Rather than suffer through, let’s work on a burial.I’ll probably end up on the mantel with you.But I want to be by the sea.
Spousal
Joan Houlihan
Feature Date
Series
Selected By
Share This Poem
Print This Poem
“Spousal” from It Isn’t a Ghost if It Lives in Your Chest © 2021 by Joan Houlihan. Appears with permission of Four Way Books. All rights reserved.
Joan Houlihan is the author of six poetry collections, most recently It Isn’t a Ghost if it Lives in Your Chest, winner of the 2021 Julia Ward Howe Award from the Boston Author’s Club. Her previous collections include Shadow-feast, named a must-read by the Massachusetts Center for the Book; The Mending Worm, winner of the New Issues Green Rose Award; The Us, named a must-read by the Massachusetts Center for the Book; the sequel Ay; and Hand-Held Executions: Poems & Essays. She is the founding director of the Colrain Poetry Manuscript Conference.
Poetry Daily Depends on You
With your support, we make reading the best contemporary poetry a treasured daily experience. Consider a contribution today.
