Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Twenty-eight
Spring 2012
 
How to Listen to your Husband
Rebecca Schumejda

He says like you, water knows no boundaries.

Alright he never says that, he asks why I throw
noodles into the pot before the water boils.

I remind him that it is orecchiette not lobster.

This infuriates him more than the toothpaste
that Jackson Pollocks our bathroom counter,

more than how I cook fish after we argue
turn on the kitchen fan, allowing the fragrance

to waft through our house like the last word.

He says he is tired of cleaning up my messes,
that he feels like the shovel sticking up in a pile

of dirt beside the hole I dug. Alright, he tells me
to let him get a word in edgewise for once, and

if he could he would revoke my poetic license.

About Rebecca Schumejda

Previous Poem | Next Poem