There’s the Fact,
and After the Fact –
the silence of a new apartment,
hugging the kids too hard,
watching them manipulate.
It’s his telling friends you took him
to the cleaners, cold stares
at soccer games.
After the fact
is buying hundred dollar jeans,
then eating ramen for a week,
lying about your age,
your weight. It’s wondering
if they’re mama’s boys
or gays still in the closet,
what to do with small talk,
stretch marks, settling for a 6
because you’re horny.
The Fact’s a piece of cake.
Sarah Russell
First published in Rusty Truck
Painting source
Sarah Russell Poetry 