I Hate You, Sometimes
Christie Taylor
Word Count 266
I Hate You, Sometimes
You stand in the hallway outside the bedroom
safe distance from my germs.
I sympathize but what if I was in a car crash?
I doubt you would pull me out of burning flames.
You don’t like being hot.
You are hot, almost eighty and so boyish.
It pisses me off. You being all adorable
in those round-framed glasses.
I hate you sometimes.
You ask.
Finally.
I have been lying in bed all day.
You need anything from the store?
Yes, ginger ale, chicken soup and eggs. I want to make poached eggs and toast.
We have eggs. I have some hard-boiled eggs ready.
No, I just told you I want poached eggs.
You never listen.
When you finally return you walk into my room
and hand me a glass of ginger ale
delivered with an icy stare.
Soon it’s dark outside. I yell from the bedroom.
YOU NEED TO FEED THE DOGS.
My dogs are so faithful.
They haven’t left my side all day.
You could never be a dog.
You are only faithful to college sports.
I can hear the TV blasting, the sound of squeaky
shoes running up and down the court.
You don’t answer me.
I get up and yell from the kitchen.
YOU NEED TO FEED THE DOGS.
OK, I WILL AT HALFTIME.
You love ball games more than you love our dogs.
I scan the kitchen to see what mess you have made.
My eyes stop on the mixed bouquet
I’d forgotten you had waiting for me
when I returned home sick.
You are so lovely.
Christie lives on Maryland's Eastern Shore after 40+ years owning an art gallery in North Carolina. Poems have appeared in orangepeel literary magazine; the tide rises, the tide falls: an oceanic literary magazine; Still Point Arts Quarterly; Milk and Cake Press, Dead of Winter III Anthology: and forthcoming in Songs for Eretz Poetry Review. She always searches for the edge in her writing and artwork.Taylor has been awarded visual artist residences at The Ballinglen Arts Foundation (Ireland), Cove Park (Scotland) and Tyrone Guthrie Center (Ireland). She enjoys romping through fields with her dogs.