My Wife Can't Sleep



First poem posted from selection on website:

My Wife Can't Sleep


Late at night I listen –


To my wife moving around in

our kitchen,

Floor boards groaning,

Pans burning, mixer



Or the sound of the TV,

My wife watching

Another Nazi documentary.


My wife sympathizes

With the holocaust victims,

Dozing on the couch

To the screams and churning


Of a war-ravaged ghetto


Across the screen.


Like the pain is not to be seen,

But digested internally

And executed in the kitchen.


She gets up when I go to bed

And begins her routine,

Heating the oven to 350 degrees,

Baking tiny cupcakes

And chunky brownies.

My wife says

It isn’t what it seems, but

She won’t come to bed –


Until the night is half dead,

And her bread is baked

Just right.


I feel her presence

Early in the morning,


Almost in mourning,

Offering me

A bite.




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