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Everell (a sestina)

Twenty-five years we indulged
love, together raising three
bold, minimally challenging, sons.
Built our house, our lives, on careful
plans, solid as granite. We did not waver,
for our boys’ sake, we couldn’t take risks

like when we first met and risked
everything, by eloping, indulging
our lust and each other, only wavering
slightly before you forfeited three
years of university scholarships carefully
earned. Lacking adequate reasons,

leaving college knowing coming seasons
lacked money to return. We took risks
and lived on love. We grew careful
not to forfeit security or further indulge
caprice. You got a job, I worked three.
Not once did we consider a waiver

from labor. Sometimes you wavered
exhausted, pregnant with our sons,
but grasped your stone goals: mothering three
boys, working, taking only risks
with your health. You would not indulge
idleness, checking off boxes carefully

from our "goal list." We had it all: acre full
of landscaping, boat, giant flag-pole (flag waving),
cars, cabin, 60" TV. Indulgent
parents, spared nothing for our sons.
But somewhere lurked dark risks
compelling you. I found out at three

A.M. one morning. You came home three
years ago to say you never loved me. Our careful
plans just some charade. Alone, you took risks,
were in love with another. No wavering
note in your voice, it was final. Our sons
were mine. Your high heels clicked away to indulge

some fantasy three years in the making. A waiver
from sanity so carefully hidden, by comparison
we never took risks. Was I blinded by indulgence?

 

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