Upon my admission
to this matrimonial labyrinth
I encounter a familiar blackness
you are so good on paper
like oceans of salty water
incapable of quenching
my emotional thirst
lying underneath the worldly rubble
you are the first person I call
and yet,
you are the last one to help me.
I hear whispers of a place
where husbands can be hired:
to surgically repair,
all gnawing wounds
that beget our despair.
I travel far and wide
to this mystical space
where husbands can be hired
I take my place in a queue
that curves long –
like the great wall of china:
an outstretched mile of women
taking long breaths of elation
and exhaling trepidation
I reach the prominent desk
at the front of the line:
eagerly grabbing the pen
that will sweeten Destiny’s lips
lo and behold
I find myself in my bed –
waking up
to reality.