Monologue at Nine A.M.


“It’s no small thing, this coming
To this cantabile. Living
With him’s been fever from outset
Sixteen years ago. For sixteen years I’ve sat
And waited for things to get better. I have to laugh.
You know, I used to dream that I might ebb to death
Or else he fall in love again and turn the hose
On someone else. Well, I suppose he has.
I thought I sensed an absence, and today he left his poached
Egg staring like a dying eye, his toast untouched.”

‘Monologue at Nine A.M.’ by Louise Glück

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