poems by Rena J. Mosteirin

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Tuesday, March 24, 2009

You May Be Right

I’d kill you if it came to that./ Six decades/ two sons
murder-suicide/ Hanover, New Hampshire./
The police suspect no foul play/ there is no evidence of domestic abuse/
the couple mentioned to their friends many times that they didn’t want to live
without each other./ Would you kill me?

Friday night I crashed your party
Saturday I said I’m sorry

My face is like a split melon uncomfortable/ in the dentist’s special
padded chair this morning/ where the local news radio sputters out:
they were married 59 years/ they wrote notes to their sons
about their decision/ to die together./
Everyone in this town knows by now/ he shot her and then himself.
But I wasn’t thinking me and you/ until this song came on after the news broadcast
and sometimes we crash parties too.

You may be right
I may be crazy
But it just may be a lunatic you’re looking for

That kind of love needs a better name than murder-suicide.
/ I jerk
my head up/bleeding gums and teary
eyes make the dentist pull back/ and as I spit it all out
in the little white sink and watch my blood swirl down/I suddenly know
we have that kind of love.

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