The Real Problem

You told me once that you’ve never understood poetry

And I laughed today on my way over to give you back your key

Because I realized so supremely and so instantly

how true that is.

You’ve never understood poetry,

Not while it filled the pages of my notebook

As we sat side by side on the airplane to Tucson last summer,

Not when you saw it spilling from my tired eyes

That day two weeks ago when we had our last fight,

Not even when we danced at that wedding

And it wrapped around us like a warm fog,

Was like dew against your skin,

And I reached out and touched it

Couldn’t even speak

And when the song ended, you walked away

Like you were leaving a grocery store.

No, you’ve never understood poetry,

Not even when it was all around us,

Not even in the moments where we became it.

And there, all along, my dear,

Was our problem.