What to do with the hard-earned resentment

of knowing what people are like?

Of laying trust stone by stone

so I can one day hold his hand and say

I’ll be with you until the very end

of your excitement.

Each time I stand by the front door

in zipped satin and dangling gold

the knob takes longer to turn.

This one could be different,

the car chant goes

beat by submerged beat

so monotone and relentless

that hope sounds like a punishment.

The dinner candle glows on his cheekbones

behind the dark, two-way mirror.

The frosty documentary

blinks over our faces.

The interrogation continues.

Remember, gumshoes:

1. Words have DNA, just like their hosts.

What he says about his ex, he will say about you.

1. Listen just as much to what he doesn’t say–

No wall is without blueprints.

1. Every branch that peaks through

is connected to a root.

1. Every cliff looks like a curb from far away.

This is heavy

he says 8 months later

while my chest lowers

to the pillow.

My feet dangling on the solid air

of our invented faith.