Beatrice, After 25 Years of Marriage to Dante
by Maureen Kingston

He loves me
small like
a welfare check.

He showers me
with romance,
beard crumbs
and floss flicks.

He lines the shelves
of his cave with
my complaints,
no stick left to
our contact paper.

The big
today: our
silver jubilee.

He plucks
a cat hair
from my robe
on his way
out the door.

Such a love I’ve
inspired in him.

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