They say forgiveness is a virtue. And holding on to bitterness will hurt you. But I’d rather keep my anger. In case you forget to act like a stranger.

I love you in Starbucks rewards points. Evidence of hundreds of sweet vanilla cold brews.

I love you in hours of achy postpartum joints. That I forget every time our son coos.

I love you in mortgage payments. On a little brick house

I love you in totes in my parents’ basement Your hunting gear taking priority over a good blouse

I love you in deer roast. I cook them because you’re so proud.

I love you in the most. In words I don’t say out loud.

It’s January. You declare my bikini line too hairy.

It’s February. You think I could lose weight if I quit dairy.

It’s March. You give me pointers for a hotter back arch.

It’s April. You ruin my birthday party and swear I’m unstable.

It’s May. You cry about how much I weigh.

It’s June. You call me uncultured for sleeping through Dune.

It’s July. You get caught leering at a pregnant girl then lie.

It’s August. You brag at a party that the girl you took to prom in eighth grade was the hottest.

It’s September. I bake you a birthday cake you won’t remember.

It’s October. You note I’m better in bed when I’m not sober.

It’s November. I throw a wine bottle; you rail against my temper.

It’s December. You miss skinny me; she was limber.

There once was a stay at home mama. She lived for stirring up drama. Armed in Lululemon, she stormed the school. She shouted that virtual learning and mask mandates were cruel.

Aunt Dianne She was a big carcinogen fan. She didn’t give her body any slack. She fried herself in a tanning bed and smoked pack after pack.

Miniature weenie Who’s always begging for another Greenie It doesn’t help her rancid breath. She smells like Fritos and death.

How can a modern mom limit her kid’s screen time? Don’t buy a fucking tablet.

this poem is in lowercase with randomly chosen line breaks so you know that I am unconventional

lines about mental illness obvious metaphor using flowers and rain my suffering is art

verses about love lost freckles compared to stars some babbling about scars