The Poet’s Wife Responds
His wife no longer leaves plums in the refrigerator. She’s so tired of how inconsiderate her husband has become—leaving sarcastic notes in the place of fruit.
How thin she’s grown! Her husband gobbles up everything from the shelves: leftover meatloaf, the last piece of chocolate cake from her own birthday celebration, the peaches and plums. Replace what you take, her mother had taught her. This included adding a new roll of toilet paper after using the last square, picking up a quart of milk if you pour the final drop.
While he sleeps at night, she whispers in his ear, “Thief!” Once she’d read that the brain processes words and remorse while in a dream state. Though her stomach growls every morning, she still wakes with the hope that maybe this will be the day he replaces that last plum in the refrigerator.
Playing Scrabble After Yet Another Incident
The couple attempted to play a game of Scrabble after watching the news. But tragedy crept into the wooden tiles. It began with the first word, Shoot, placed in the center by the husband. This was followed by the wife’s play, Bullet. She was thrilled by the double-word score and extra points, but it triggered an ache in her chest. Next came Wound, then Rifle. The entire gameboard soon filled with a spattering of assault-related tiles. When the husband attempted to form the word Child vertically, he broke down, spilling each letter like empty casings.
Her Stories
When the woman dies, miniscule red alphabet rivers escape from her veins. Letters fly like cardinals. Instead of tweeting, they each release an assigned utterance until entire tales whisper overhead at dusk. Death does not end the narrative. What is birdsong if not a story?
Maureen Sherbondy’s work has appeared in Wigleaf, Litro, Stone Canoe, and other journals. She lives in Durham, NC. www.maureensherbondy.com
If you enjoyed these micro fictions, you might also enjoy reading White Cats, three micro fictions by Kapka Nilan
Scrabble cover image courtesy of Clarissa Watson via Unsplash