The Good Wife
by Allison Elrod

On the day she knew for sure
she walked through her quiet house
admiring its lovely bones.
She loved the light
that filled the place,
the view from every window.

She went upstairs and lay down
on her boy’s small bed.
Lying very still, she made herself
small — watched the paper dragon
hanging by a tread above her, watched
it turn and turn in endless circles.

Later,
she folded shirts
and started dinner.
She went out to meet the school bus right on time.

From the contributors notes: Allison Elrod is a poet and essayist whose recent work appears in or is forthcoming in Iodine Magazine, Kakalak, The Mom Egg, and The Sound of Poets Cooking. She is Associate Editor at Lorimer Press in Davidson, NC.