Wishbone

You’re talking about the deductible

and why the premium spiked in June.

I’m watching the way your jaw moves,

hard and mechanical under the skin.

There is a single dark lash

resting on your cheekbone,

a fallen needle on a snow-dusted hill.

I could tell you to close your eyes.

I could reach out and pluck it,

force us to name a hope out loud.

But the kitchen is cold

and the bills are already open.

I’ll let it stay there until you blink it away.