She has learned to appreciate oceans.
Mountains loom large in her heart’s credenza.
Forests have been taken in like orphans.
Rivers, lakes – brand new soulmates.
Next up is her husband’s soiled clothes,
his snores at three a.m.
And then her mother’s calls,
all that unwelcome interference.
Plus what the dog has done to the sofa legs.
And the kids to the parlor walls.
She has to love and accept and bear bravely –
just so everything can fit the bill.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, Perceptions and Sanskrit, with work upcoming in Big Muddy Review, Gargoyle Magazine, Coal City Review and the Coe Review.