Were They So Comely

Cast-iron stove on the sidewalk. Pans in the snow. I’m looking up at our balcony. How’d she get the stove over the railing?

She’s throwing away my cooking supplies. My saffron’s in the gutter. She took the caps off the turmeric and cayenne and waved the bottles like glow sticks. She must’ve, because the snow’s stained red and yellow in arcs.

She used a lot of Elizabethan idioms. In bed she’d make me talk about other girls. After I gave her the rundown, she’d ask: Were they as apple-cheeked as I? Were they so comely?

How do you answer that?

Photo credit: David Strom