He Answers for Her.

He answers for her.
He takes her calls.

He decides what she will do.
What she will say.
Where she will go on vacation.

She is the father of his child.
He takes a photograph of them all.
He puts it on his social media.
This is who he believes.

He is.


She keeps her back against the wall.



One day.
Before her.
He will stop and wonder.
Maybe.
His child will have grown old.
Maybe.
He didn't notice.
Until it was too late.

The day he realized; his children no longer want to go
to Disney World.

Maybe he will come up with a cheap substitute.
Senses working overtime.
But all too late.

He will get old.
His cock probably will not work.
Someone will try to sell him a pill.

He won't buy it.

And slowly, dumbfounded.
He will walk toward the woods.
Not the desert.

And he will face the beast with so many arms.
That he avoided for so many years
It will find him . He will name it Mr. Dark.
Because.

He will feel its hot breath
and burning eyes
It will strike
just below the throat
close enough
that he will feel rough callous
and skin.


The strength will bring memories
and he will be helpless
in its grasp


His first thought will be
Of a time when he played to win
Fleeting.

And then. Maybe he will try to kill a mosquito.
Because.

He spent his life answering for her.
Telling her what to say.
What to do.

She spent her time regenerating.
Biding her time.
A new tattoo.
A girlfriend.
weaving flesh and bone
into a tapestry of calm.

Two cars are parked in the driveway.

His. And Hers.

And she will keep his truck. Because it looks good
In the driveway.

And she wants someone to think.
That there are two people at home.

Someone else will want it.
Perhaps. Her Son.

But it will stay.

Lines from the sun trace.
Like the broken glass
of a sacred phone.

That dropped from his nerveless grasp.
In the middle of the forest.


His hair. Had turned from black

into bright white.