is a candlestick, snapped
at the base after being dropped
from a bag of date-night
accessories.
We had a terrible anniversary.
Two weeks later, we met
in the bedroom, and our bodies
were sad—sad fingers slipped
through sad hair, sad lips touched
sad mouths. Next, the room
was sad, and the neighbors
were sad while trying
to conceive a child. The deer
sleeping behind the bushes and
overgrown lilies were sad
and slept sad dreams. Now you are
a little older and place the broken
candlestick in a box with other
marital relics, along with a strand
of hair that was particularly sad,
a movie ticket, a tablecloth, even
your wedding ring, which you
drop into the box for a moment, shift
the contents around, and put back on.