If there’s no getting over it, you’re going under. I’m afraid
We’ve always been religious in this way.
After the fight over the microwave
You swore never to give an inch. You said
Life was too short to share, which scared me:
No one thinks of life that way when they’re in love—
Like Paul said in that sitcom The Apostles,
Diminishing returns on flesh are no concern
Should one start from a state of death and worm one’s way
Toward the day. I paraphrase because it costs less
But you get the drift; the same is true in love—
That’s a bodily hock to another with benefits. You dared me
To regard the book, but haughtily. I did
The dishes and you dried. You said we’d use the stove
Until the parts arrived, as your unbridled sway
Broke on a simple mess. But if there’s no use getting into it,
Get over it, go under it, get laid.
Cam Scott is a poet, essayist, and improvising non-musician. He lives in Winnipeg, Manitoba.
To view other poems published in this issue please visit Vallum’s website.