I Became Anything
I finished the wine. The next time I saw him, he was reading a cigarette ad.
I was then unable to throw his clothes out the window.
He counted the summers, the jobs, who he answered and used.
I had a child’s realism. Sometimes, I became anything,
a butcher, a moral exercise. And he called it research.
I went upstairs, to our one-bedroom apartment, and
simply cried. He was interested in the silence
of my narrator. Which was only a river.
I took him to that party. He never asked, he didn’t need to.
A year passed before I stopped hearing his voice,
and then noticed the waiters in blue, the street
outside my sunlit window, that great resistance -
the beginning of a special ache.
Cody Pease is a queer writer. They are currently pursuing a Master of Social Work at the University of Missouri - St. Louis. Their work has been nominated for the Pushcart prize, and also appears in The Offing and X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine, among others. They can be found on Twitter and Instagram @codyp777.