Filing Jointly
No matter what the Fed says,
we always put the tax deadline
in the calendar on the 14th
so it sounds like a Valentine’s Day
date to review our year in April.
This year is special
because I am doing it alone,
remembering him, accounting for his actions,
and mine, itemizing all the entries.
It’s an emotional audit.
I tear up as I write off
the axe I’d hit him with,
along with all the other tools
I used afterward
as “business expenses”;
and I smile when I enter
the checks I received
from his life insurance —
far more than I ever earned
as his secretarial spouse.
But the real payoff
gushes from deducting
his medical expenses.
I think of him suffering
in the hospital
for a month afterward —
unable to talk without a tongue
or write without a hand,
or even ask for help,
let alone know he needed it,
with only half a brain left
in his cracked skull.
I laugh when I calculate my refund,
wondering if his gold-digging mistress
is itemizing all his gifts as income,
and if I should invest myself
in another relationship.
I didn’t do it for all this stupid money,
but thanks for the Valentine’s gifts, honey.
*****
ABOUT:
This poem is my contribution to “30 Days of the 5-2” — a special guest blogging marathon, with a new poem or article posted each day of April in celebration of National Poetry Month.
The 5-2 Crime Poetry Journal is a wonderful place to find your out-of-the-ordinary poetry. I’ve appeared in it several times in the past, with everything from poetry recitations to criticism to interviews. Check them out and if you support their ebooks, editor Gerald So will contribute the income to Academy of American Poets this month.