ISSUE: Spring 2012
Now, her hair. Little flurries to brush off
her clothing, wet clumps after showering,
blocking the drain. Her good husband banters
—What do you think, a bonnet?—stalled at the
open bathroom door, copping a look at
the body he adores. It’s not until
the next week that the steroids puff her up:
Your cherubic phase, he quips. This treatment’s
like aging (O, let them grow old!). Taking
each fresh loss lightly, trying not to care.