At least I don’t have to check “divorced”on a lifetime of official forms,
but I remember the wedding ritual, the party, the thank you notes.
The marriage failed within a year.

At least the cats can’t ask me why she doesn’t come home any more,
but they follow me with puzzled eyes and keep waiting by the door.
I can’t seem to provide them a stable home.

At least I have my own career, accounts, investments, business sense,
but half my income came from her and half the household payments, too.
I scramble for work like an abandoned housewife.

At least the courts aren’t involved, we are even generous with each other,
but her subtle cruelty catches me every time, leaving me breathless.
I hate, despite my best intentions.

At last I don’t wake huddled in a ball waiting for the next attack,
now I sprawl luxuriously amidst the cats’ warm bodies.
My horizons have opened like wings.