Fate fixed as follows catastrophic bris;

a bridge uncrossed, but ever crossed in thought

now rained my Saturdays. White covers taut

obscured the sex-bed's sere obscenities.

What unattended candle, what hubris

compromised the value of our home as

the promise of an indiscreet letter

discreetly flowers in an ash pile?

All's pyre, all's been digested in the blaze,

gobbled and shat; a new favorite sweater

lies around the corner yet. Trust the maze.

I threw up then laid down in my bed, while

with the staid sufferance of stabled horses

I waited the first wave of divorces.