HOUSE SITTING FOR MY EX-WIFE WHILE SHE RECOVERS FROM A HYSTERECTOMY

Josslyn Turner

The house is the same:

food gone stale in the cabinets,

webs woven

in corners. Dust

on barnwood frames

of childhood pictures

of former bride and groom,

our boys ages three and five. 

Dust on the nightstand

beside the bed where we fucked        

fought             wept.


For the first time

as a woman in this room,

I undress

in front of the vanity,

admire my breasts

and wish that she would too.


Evan and Caleb don’t protest

when I wake them

at 6:30 on a school day.

Eggo waffles

with maple syrup

for breakfast.


Duffy is excited

when I unlock

her kennel. She stretches

her paws up on my shoulders

and licks my face.


A stray almond tree

in one corner of the backyard,

where nothing else will grow.

In the opposite corner,

an overgrown Juniper

I planted years ago.


Evening sunlight

glints on spider’s silk

spread against the leaves.

JOSSLYN TURNER is a trans queer poet, prose writer, and abstract artist. She is an English scholar at Modesto Junior College. Her goal is to earn a BA in English and an MFA in poetry. Her poems have appeared in literary journals such as South 85, Voice of Eve, and Oyster River Pages among others.