Do Not CC a Poet Eleven Reasons You Want to Hire a Hit Man
by accident, the house cloaked
under the blanket of 3 a.m., you
propped up in bed, phone cupped
in one palm and half of the bed
smooth and unrumpled without
husband #3, a bottle of 90 proof
on your nightstand.
This list of reasons belongs on
the back of a parking ticket
or a napkin from the Blue Bear
or in a velvet-coated diary kept
in a cupboard in an attic—not
in an email when your ring finger
slips and slides me into the "To" slot,
your eyes sliding/not seeing my name
before you hit "Send" and thereyou done it.
Look where this mistake
ended up.
