He doesn’t tell me
disappears into the bathroom
stays ten minutes
no toilet sound flushing
comes out with a small brown
paper bag—rolled tight at the top
opens the front door
hands it to a woman
I’ve never seen before
magma spews
up my body marrow-hot
bone-lit catapults
me out of the house
to spill, wail, rant
trust splattered
I, who can freight
no more children
my then-husband donates
to another woman
who will raise his child
the child I hunger to bear
morning shower
1987
you were the way back
the rush——
drenching, beating,
drummed
my heart
I lifted my face
to the warm cascade
first movement
out of rage in months
you offered a small delight
five minutes of warmth,
of touch
revenge flushed away
because of you,
the fig tree marking
our marriage day
survived my ax
pummeled awake——
you were the way back
Amrita Skye Blaine’s preoccupations are awakening, aging, impermanence, dogs, and how people with disabilities are met by this culture. She received an MFA in Creative Writing from Antioch University in 2003, and a PocketMFA in poetry in 2024. She has published a memoir, a three-novel trilogy with a dog as one of the point-of-view characters, and two poetry collections: every riven thing from Finishing Line Press, and strange grace——the ending season by Berkana Publications. She has been writing poetry steadily since she turned seventy, and for the last four years, has been writing a poem every day. She has been published in nineteen poetry anthologies and is a 2025 Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net Anthology nominee. Her villainous secret identity is The Sly Fox.
