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My Silent Witness
His car keys are missing. The spare
was lost some years ago,
He clears counters, opens drawers,
slams them shut, checks all pockets,
the hamper too,
Looks accusingly at me,
as if I were the one who drove home
last night.
Leaning on his horn, he rode the shoulder
like a maniac, had me frantic with distress.
I go for my Saturday morning walk, taking the dog,
avoiding his fury,
Some kind of order has been restored,
the shower is going, his place of refuge,
his regular golf game cancelled, I guess.
I slather the key chain with peanut butter,
take Fetch into the bathroom, tell Fetch to sit
and stay, and I join my husband in the shower.
poem
by
Elke Nigro
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