By Diana Anhalt
After 48 years together—Or is it 49?— the eventual
becomes inevitable. And I must teach you the secrets
of the pressure cooker, to sun-dry the sheets, water
the dahlias, and introduce you to a good woman, Anne,
perhaps, without arousing your suspicions.
Did you know mustard eases leg cramps?
A pinch of salt helps water boil? Toothpaste
takes the itch out of mosquito bites?
I won't tell you that someday—not long from now—
we'll become one with wind-blown silence, taste
of grass. I will tell you the password for my email,
and place the Christmas card list—grown shorter
every year—on your computer.
You'll need to know I hide spare keys inside
old shoes. You'll find my obit in the pocket
of your winter coat.
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