The exodus

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The exodus
(for my mother and father)

    He remembers hearing the words,
    “We are not couples that fight all
    the time.” He looks at his wife, who
    is not speaking to him. “We are
who we are.” And thinks to himself
    that the sea is tired. Perhaps
    as forlorn as he is. He’s a man in the garden. He imagines the sun

covering the dark water. Cold to the
touch. He wonders what the right
language of love is for winter guests.
How to make peace with his wife.
He wants to embrace her. Take her in his arms

    as if she was a girl

again. Brush her hair out of her

    face with his granadilla hands.

Forget that he is in the autumn
of his years. He wants to forget
that he used to do this for a living.
He wants to know if his unhappy
marriage is on the verge of cracking up. He wants to know
if she’s finally going to leave him.

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