Faster than he chooses his socks for the day
my spouse edits my poems.
More than a quarter century ago
he surprised me with his gumption,
as, unasked, he edited my wedding vows.

Yet he baffles me with questions
about whether he should run today or tomorrow,
paralyzed by the alternatives.

Also amazing is how he turns something out of nothing–
related, perhaps, to the way he embroiders a story
until it bears no resemblance to the truth.

His own poems take weeks, if not months,
to complete. My poems are a different story.

Upon this one, for example, he bestowed new vitality
in a matter of minutes!