from Red Canoe: Love In Its Making
GRIEVANCES
By Joan Cusack Handler
A swelling constant in my throat now & a burning in my
chest as I make note of each new grievance—
it seems we’re helpless.
He must criticize; I must react.
But he says I provoke him.
He wouldn’t be so critical if I would be more rational
. I need screens, he says, distance.
Think, he admonishes.
Emote less.
To him, I’m an E X P L O S I O N: that
torrent of L E A V E S
overtaking him in today’s November W I N D.
I’m
s c a t t er. I ex a g g e r ate.
I’m rage, fire & t e m pest.
I’m our bedroom: a c
h
a
o
s of Christmas
wrap
f r en z I e d outfits
dang
- ling
from
doors, our bed
smotheredin
books&papers
catalogues last
month’sphonebills.
I’m t o o m u c h He likes boundaries.
dough r I s I n g unattended in the oven,
dinner for twenty to celebrate each holiday;
I’m last minute
wine,
toilet paper, makeup&
dessert,
visits to the bank,
dentist & colorist.
I'm always cleaning your mess/he says
I'm repetitious-turning life inside
then out; I’m needy,
dependent &
insecure. I’m endless crises,
tirades, dropped
bladder & hysterectomy . . . .
I spend my life, he complains, taking care of you.
I know I love you, but I don’t know if I can live with you.
He’s tired.
He needs
quiet. Rest.
I’m intense, too analytical: “How do you feel?
What does that mean? I’m at war with my body.
Maybe I’ll go back into therapy.”
You’re moody,
he says,
depressed.
He wants l i ght, airy: he wants
healthy:
an Athlete,
maybe a Bimbo, nothing t o o
intellectual.
He wants to laugh,
play tennis, a little piano
get a suntan,
make love
with someone who
isn’t keeping score.
He wants entertainment:
movies,
vacations. He wants quiet.
He wants
peace.
He wants to be bored.
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