By Susan J. Erickson

Three years post-dissolution
standing in the grocery checkout line
I sign a check with a last name

no longer mine, returned to him
like another item
on the list of "Husbandís Assets"
appended to the Decree of Divorce.

Confetti flies as I shred paper
to void this telltale document,
evidence contrary to my affidavit
of a bond "irretrievably broken."

The clerk, instant jury of my peers,
sniffs the faint perfume of passion
invading the dry air of commerce,
shrugs her shoulders as if she too knows

that any belief in eternal bonds
is moot testimony, without legal significance.
Only the highest court hears such statements.
Till then I plead guilty to perjury.


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