HOW GORILLA GLUE COULDN’T SAVE MY MARRIAGE
When I got married, my friend
got me a gift certificate to Williams & Sonoma.
I used it to buy a butter dish, a bread knife,
and some fancy cheese I didn’t end up liking.
Two years later, she jumped
off a bridge in Boston into the Mystic River.
A few years later, my husband broke
the handle off the butter dish,
and then he left me, too. He didn’t break
the butter dish on purpose, but I think about it
all the time—the way he used Gorilla Glue
to put the knob back on after I threw
myself on the kitchen floor, crying.
It’s just a butter dish, he said, and he wasn’t wrong,
I guess, but he was. If it’s stupid
to have an emotional attachment
to a butter dish, that’s okay.
But I’ve loved it longer
than my husband could love me,
and I’ll let you decide what that means.
Brett Elizabeth Jenkins lives and writes in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Look for her work in The Sun, Beloit Poetry Journal, AGNI, Mid-American Review, and elsewhere.