by MaryJan Gay Munger
Some angry day in March I plan to leave
you, my devourers, my loves.
On the way out I’ll overturn the kitchen table,
send books and papers crashing
onto the blue ceramic tile. Grinning,
I’ll swing myself out the door, leaving
dirty dishes in the sink and all
the lights in the house
blazing behind me. When my wide red skirt
catches the wind and sends me sailing
across the stubble fields,
I’ll think of you,
standing in a vacant cluster,
your empty mouths
goldfishing, open and closed.
MaryJan Gay Munger, a graduate student in English, lives in Springville with her husband, Casey. They are expecting their first child.
