Coupling

Carolynn Kingyens
2 min read2 days ago

--

I listened to you retell it
to our new friends
from our new church,
the story of how
we first met.

I sat in silence
with my hands
under the table,
wrapping my dirty,
cloth napkin
around a small fist.

Your version of events
were tidy and clean,
when you said
you knew I was the woman
you were destined to marry
the moment you saw me
in your doorway,
punctual as always,
asking for Harrison,
my blind date,
and your perpetually late
roommate.

Our new friend, Allison,
cocked her head,
cooing out
a falsetto’s squeal
to her mute husband:
“Isn’t that romantic?”

If she only knew our truth;
you had no interest
in wanting to marry me
the day I showed up
in your messy doorway
with empty chip bags
and T-shirts
strewn across wood floors,
it had nothing to do
with coupling.

I was ripe, hot,
willing to please –
not yet the bitch
you would later marry.

I was naive in a white,
strapless sundress,
and long hair
still shower-damp,
smelling of mint
and clover.

I let you kiss my mouth,
my neck, my back
in your bedroom;
let you hide me
inside your closet
when Harrison rapped
on your door,
asking about a girl.

A poem from my second collection, published by Kelsay Books.

--

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Carolynn Kingyens

Wife, Mommy, and author of Before the Big Bang Makes a Sound and Coupling; available on Amazon, McNally Jackson, Book Culture, Barnes & Noble.