I’m reluctant to write
a narrative of jealousy.
I’m learning, the subject
is less important than the action.
So when I see a mother
and daughter smiling, I think
of fried chicken because
it’s your favorite
and if I lived, I lived
to know you belong to another
landscape. One that looks like
nothing to me. I’ve seen an old house
in a green yard to be forgiven
where I’ve said let’s order takeout
without picking up the phone.
There is no where to sit
so we don’t. I can truthfully say
you are often lying down. That’s
how you’re loved, on your side
with a remote tapping against
your thigh while watching
the Bachelor. I have imagined
a place for myself in this room
that indulges my sense of pride
though it was made by you—
no inside, no out.
Charlie Porter is a poet from Harrisburg, PA. They currently teach and live in Daegu, South Korea.
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