CRITICA

The suicide note reads I didn’t do this Life took my 
I
never finished

Imagine the relief of sleeping together after
a year apart
then the great disappoint of waking 

a little spit curled in the corner
of my husband’s sleeping mouth

Did Odysseus want to die
before he decided to just go home?

A bed rooted to earth imagine
the guilt he must have felt dreaming beside her that first night
of Circe and Calypso

Some say The Odyssey was a soldier’s dying fantasy
Did he ever really go home?

If I go back will there be a morning 
when I have unwoven enough of my dreams

to rise from shared sheets and loyally
slit my own throat  

I picture the drenched bouquet of black hair he might draw out of the drain 
the next day
a year of my life after my life 

Hung together again, it could cover my whole head
but the I cannot be revised