My mother had four husbands
and died in the middle 
of her last divorce. 

Hon, these are the only
blueprints I have:
you leave, one way or the other.

I’ve hardly seen
a successful marriage up close.
When Mom remarried
the second time, she had
three years. He was
only 30 when his Jeep
flipped in a country ditch.

Hon, all I know is
I could lose you,
one way or the other.

A headache, kidney stones,
chest pains, these
unforgivable mortalities.
Every day I love you,
I wed my fear.

I bless every year of you,
every scared, sacred
year of you.