The Astronaut's Marriage (WIP)

(so many rough drafts... I hope that you like this latest piece!)

The astronaut's marriage is failing,

and he does not know why.

On its last orbit through the year

it gravitied through the cracks

like falling leaves through empty conversations

and he does not know

if the wreckage can be salvaged.

There is no scientific data

to be found

in her passive aggressive missiles

jettisoned from numb hands.

She just comm links into his brain,

“I can't do this anymore.”

She says this over and over,

her words like falling rain

hoping to hit the mark

of truthful or even just get repetitive enough

so that one day

it will come true.

The systems failed

just like the statisticians said they would,

they said

1 in 5

4

3

1 in 2 marriages

will fail

so love her more than

fifty two percent of the time.

Remind her that her eyes

Rhyme with your bottom line

So that when you hit that bottom line,

She can be your reserve tank,

Hit the surface and thank

Every lucky star you named after her

When you got all the way up there

That she is still willing to be

Your tire swing.

Your chicken soup.

Your teddy bear.

Her still-soft hair

Hangs like unspoken promises

Across her unopened book face

And you must remember

To thank Grace

For everything she has ever done for you.

You will hold on to

her untethered fingers

and whisper, I know.

I have seen this scene

play out before

diamond-eyed and running for home

in five

four

three

two

many times

I have sat on your waterline windowsill

and collected all of your rain drops,

even though you thought

that I didn't give a Hoover dam

but I did.

I did not know

that it would mean something

in the end.

In the beginning

we were the ninth inning

heading for home

waving to the crowd, already

so many shades of way too loud

turn down the volume,

you said.

So I did.

I can no longer hear

your heart beat

like I used to,

filling the cavernous quiet

with its necessary cacophony.