Katrina Kaye

Red nail polish splattered
against the black and gold circular pattern;
he hardly noticed.

A small bit of wax
from a candle lit,
living room picnic
melted in the middle.
He complained when he felt
the hard wax against bare feet,
but the damage seemed minute.

A black trail smeared
from the grease on my soles.
No matter how he yelled,
I couldn’t scrub it clean
or remember to leave my shoes at the door.

The corner tore during a fight
over dishes, laundry, and unhappiness.
I pushed him;
he pushed back.

The turning point was
Friday night’s Christmas party.
He was taking body shots
off the blonde in the kitchen.
I was kissing my ex on the back porch.
Neither noticed the overturned chest
leaking Merlot and merriment into a thick puddle.
The water dried, but the stain hovered.

On Saturday afternoon,
we stood on either side,
not facing, eyes downward,
and rolled it slowly up.
We placed it on the curb,
next to the VA donations
and recycling, certain someone
would pick it up.

“How I Ruined Your Persian Rug” is previously published in A Scattering of Imperfections (2009).