They Still Get Mail
by Patricia Behrens
The local YMCA writes to my sister’s husband Bruce, five-years dead, asking that he refer a friend for membership. I suggest my husband Dave, also long departed. They can’t pay a lot, but they’re good at keeping out of sight, will never crowd the living members. It’s only when you look with care, you’ll see that they were even there. That sputter in the shower? That’s Bruce and Dave, forgetting they should turn the faucet off. That sheen of sweat on the machine you don’t remember being used? That’s them, too. They’ve been taking turns, switching out the reps. And that ripple in the pool you think might have come from breezes through an open door? Yes, that’s also them, swimming side by side, grinding out the laps. They think when you’ve got eternity to face, it helps to be in shape. They’re in it for the long haul. They leave to us, back home, dealing with the mail.
Patricia Behrens lives in New York City where she studied poetry at the 92nd St.Y and Poets House. Her poetry has appeared in publications such as Split Rock Review, The Literary Bohemian, The Road Not Taken, Think, American Arts Quarterly and Nasty Women Poets: An Unapologetic Anthology of Subversive Verse.