Dirty Diana
X
Dirty Diana –
I call her that
on times she decides
to shit on bricks
or piss on carpets.
Then it's always me
who's job it is
(as she watches,
with glee)
to clean it.
"Jane,
"what kind of name
"is Diana
"for a dog?"
She listened not.
I dread to witness
Jane's too likely,
reactionary,
response,
if the day arrives
when our baby pops
and I try to claim
the baby's name.
She'll make the choice
– no second thoughts
– she always does.
And in our house,
with roles reversed,
picked
and mixed,
it'll be me,
clearly,
who cleans the baby shit.
But I forget it,
look to the skies,
take a breath,
look down,
at a flowerbed,
and recall
those other reasons
for which I love her.