In Sickness and In Health

In the waiting room, we sit on orange
chairs with berber carpet. Here for
your ear pain. Can I interest you
in a freeze-dried
mammoth? I ask, handing you
a National Georgraphic. This
is marriage. How different

from our silver/turquoise wedding,
our eyes, in green-bowered
photos, aglow. Reception: red- and
amber-lit space lounge, celebrants
time-traveled from our past,
playing with planets, grooving
to retro dance. Our meta-
wedding, fusing art, culture,
science, as slides on a screen. Together
tasting sweet fondant. And here

today, I strain to hear
the doctor through the door. How
I need your ever-present
arms, securing me. The receptionist
tells an older man, Your wife
left a message. Don't go
grocery shopping. She did it
for you.Yes, like that.

I did some free writing on this poem while waiting for my husband, The Gryphon, at the ear, nose and throat doctor today. He'd been suffering from ear pain (which turned out to be treatable). I wrote the actual poem while we were waiting for our salmon to cook for dinner. For me, focusing on the wedding alone seemed like an overly sentimental way to approach the subject. While that was a very important moment to us, what's more important is our day-to-day connection.