from a reader


A few weeks ago a reader sent me this original poem.  I asked if I could share it with you.   As we all have felt, its the endless lies that seem to do the most damage.   And, as we all have felt, it's the lie induced paranoia that leads us to doubt our own senses.


My Husband's Secret

Your deep set blue eyes look at me
they look whole, pure, true 
like you want them to
until you blink
layers of water I am hesitant to peer into
layers of water, drifting up and back
you try to look so directly, concentrated, one dimentional

I catch a glimpse of the row boat, the one with a broken oar, hole
rotted through the wood, carrying a box, or a bag or a black tarp
peeking over the top
I see it back there, floating, spinning
the water is too blue, too clear

There is no boat, you say
but I can see it
I can see that boat, old, surprisingly sturdy
like an old friend to you
a friend you won't introduce me too
its sort of beautiful, when I catch a glimpse
don't you know that?
The wood curves with weight, like someone has sat in it many times
comfortably smoothed out the surface of that little seat
you love that boat I know
all I see is the underbelly right now, riding up on a small swell
blends with the brown sky of dusk
but I can see it, wonder what is under that tarp

There is no boat, you say
But I see that boat,
until you blink
then there is no boat,
but it will come again.

-anonymous reader from somewhere in the world


  1. That is exactly how I feel! I can see the boat but I keep listening to my husband tell me it's not there. I feel like I'm going crazy. I have such a hard time believing what I see right in front of me.

  2. Thanks for sharing!


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