|Jul/Aug 2015 Poetry Special Feature|
Photography by Lydia Selk
I Confide in Daenerys Targaryen about My Divorce
I'm no ordinary woman, she says. My dreams come true. —Leah Umansky, "Khaleesi Says"
tell her how, through that hollow winter three years ago,
my ex-husband stopped communicating, did not speak
or text or email, and I can see right away this too-typical
story doesn't interest her. She would rather hear about
the man I meet sometimes for coffee, how I describe
to him that loss can be gain even when it's still loss
and that explaining choice should not be constant labor.
I change the subject without changing the subject
and tell her how fire blooms azalea-red in so many
of my poems as if her dragons breathed through them,
do not need to tell her how, when that man said it was
possible to be too independent, the only answer I could
give was No, it isn't, do not need to tell her that when
the doorman of my building says Here you go, princess
as he lets me in, that I can answer No, it's queen.