How to Newlywed, Forever
When she doesn’t text you back, assume her battery died
that she is offering someone a shoulder, a mantra, a pair of shoes.
When she doesn’t want to cancel plans but is a hollow, twinging nerve,
cancel them for her. Put on tea. Bring her dark chocolate. Cheetos.
Ask what you can do—if she answers, listen.
When she mixes apple cider vinegar & juice for encroaching ills, thank her.
When she snips the boys’ nails as they tantrum, thank her.
When she bangs out a gourmet meal at midnight in her underwear,
licking chili sauce from a spoon, thank her.
Eat. Even if you’re full.
When someone calls her your ball & chain, set them straight.
Tell them she is the view that makes every climb worth it.
Hold her hand like your palm is made of fern, your feet willow
roots, your heartbeat a monkey howling through calabash night.
Master the dishes, dot calendars with diamonds,
lock eyes under turreted moonlight.
When they say you are co-dependent, adjust their prefix to inter—
show them the pothole you used to fit inside
—the sweeping sky that holds you now.
To really do this right, you must make peace with impermanence.
Only in death’s eventual light does every dusk feel like victory.
When she holds your face between her hands & says you are not broken—
that you are the kind of unbroken she has always needed—believe her.
Always believe her.
MATT PASCA is a poet, teacher and traveler who believes in art’s ability to foster discovery, empathy and justice. He has authored two poetry collections and had work published in over 50 journals and magazines. Matt serves as Assistant Poetry Editor of 2 Bridges Review and was named 2022 Long Island Poet of the Year by the Walt Whitman Birthplace Association. A New York State Teacher of Excellence, Matt has taught high school English for 24 years. www.mattpasca.com