'tis the season

I wrote this a couple years ago, actually. In honor of the this goofy day of hearts and in honor of Husband-Guy:

Love Poem

Like with every other incidence of toil

in my husband's life,

at each small upturn in his struggle

with the stomach flu

he swears he's over it,

is convinced

he has passed through the worst,

never to return just before

the color in his face drains

and he bolts

toward the bathroom.

We are so unalike:

me - staring into the black

of the world and knowing it

for darkness, him –

riding the tunnel again and again

to the light, unfazed

by the echoing chamber,

the swelling nausea no reason

not to perk up the next time

he feels a spark of relief.

It is optimism

that borders foolishness,

at the very least, a disregard

for simple reason. This

must be why I married him,

to sleep next to that sense of wonder,

bathe in the electricity

of an essential determination

that everything is fine,

to trace the stubbled chin

of goodness with my cheek,

and then, to write it down.