Champa Romance

Dayton Metro Library poetry contest 1st place winner in adult category
Fall 2014

Champa (shampa) Romance

Garage door rattles open, side door unlocks then closes

I vision metallic chips glistening in his hair

Machine oil, engraved on his skin, drifts through the air

He is home, but not to come to me

He goes to his true love – 

his den, his computer –

the sound of the light switch flips,

his shadow moves across the hallway as I pretend to sleep

Plastic rustles as he reaches for a Nag Champa (nogg shampa) –

and lights it – the flick of the lighter echoes

Refrigerator opens,

beer cap bounces off the kitchen counter;

moments later, 

an empty bottle clanks in the trash can

Then he comes to me, dirty, unshowered;

but not because he loves me

He wakes me, wanting to spill his dishonesty,

and I let him, but not because I love him

This will be his last grunt of false happiness

Eventually, we’ll share a tender moment when we stand 

in the kitchen and I throw my wedding rings in his face;

the band ricochets off his forehead,

landing behind the dishwasher I hardly ever used

because I ate dinner alone almost every night for seven years

He looks at the floor – the only thing that can stare back,

and he smirks, proud of himself for being so brave

tears – tiny rivers of pain, lies, wasted years – caress my cheeks

He retreats to his den, the smell of the Champa (shampa)

seeping through the bottom crack of the door he just slammed

I vision him as he strokes the keyboard of his true love,

the computer fan purring back in complete satisfaction