Dragging around some miserable wife
on a real hike, straight up a cliff
of corn, holding onto silk husks
for dear life—it’s a little odd
to vacation as your mistress, and as
the only one licensed to drive, but
no one seems to mind. A little
disturbed but making it through
Swelling up before noon, I dreamt
my abalone ring came apart
Live fish and shell peeled off
my finger, in a retail store
of which you were the owner.
This day smells like toast.

Maggie Nelson, “September 2”

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