Abbie Bradfield Mulvihill: Pick of the Week [ed. Terence Winch]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

photo by Ciara Mulvihill

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We Can Move Forward Now

 

My nose is burning from the Urine Destroyer.

 

I’m speaking to the judge with my bare feet

Perched on the cedar chest in front of me.

I move the socks from my pocket

To the couch cushion next to me.

Why wear socks when

The aging dog

Has suddenly sprung a leak?

 

The judge thinks my husband called in.

We’re going to wait for him to call back.

I take a deep breath and explain,

“That was me.

I needed to be sure

I’d have audio on the Zoom call.”

 

We can move forward now.

 

It’s not emotional

Except for my disgust

For the attorney’s failure to tell me

I needed to have the Separation Agreement

On hand.

 

Of course I have it.

I’m always prepared.

 

I am getting divorced

In the same house

In which I was married.

Two rooms away.

 

What if I’d worn the same dress

Stood in the same spot

And placed the iPad judge

Where the officiant had stood?

Would I have erased time?

 

10 minutes.

 

It’s over.

I still feel nothing.

 

I move to the room

Between marriage and divorce

Where once we celebrated with

Coconut cake and a toast to our

Future.

 

Now, I sit alone at the table and play

(for the umpteenth time)

Mika singing, “Happy Ending” with

The Sinfonia Pop Orchestra.

 

The pets have concerns

About this behavior.

But I’m trying to add emotion after

The cold, masked Zoom call.

I need to cry

And I want céad míle slán.

 

Today is my childhood best friend’s

56^th birthday.

I don’t know where she is or

What she’s doing.

I haven’t seen her in decades

But I’m glad today is her birthday.

She is the only other person I know

To be divorced

Twice.

 

A “two-time loser.”

Evidence that “you’re the problem.”

This is what people say

Out of fear.

 

Ultimately,

No one remembered this day, but me.

I am relieved

Because it’s not the champagne day

Everyone wanted.

 

What now?

Return to telework?

Dairy Queen instead of champagne?

Drive around the Beltway

In my own personal Freedom Convoy

While blasting Life in Cartoon Motion?

 

It’s raining

Tears of joy

Or sorrow

Or Urine Destroyer.

 

Traffic will be a disaster.

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Abbie Mulvihill lives in the Washington, DC area where her federal government work focuses on webs, spiders, bugs, and taxonomies in the digital realm. "We Can Move Forward Now" is her first published poem.

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Comments

[Bill Nevins]

This statement is astonishing: " "We Can Move Forward Now" is her first published poem"
A heartbreakingly briliant poem. More, please!

[Robert McDowell]

An auspicious debut! Even into a new life. A raw, poignant, bittersweet account of time-honored Divorce Wars. Refreshing. I appreciate how the poem takes its time to say it all. No rush, just long enough. Thanks, Terence, for giving this poem & poet a fine launch.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks, Robert. Glad you liked it.

[Clarinda]

Wonderful! One does keep on marrying the wrong person, no? But the rawness of the emotion doesn’t quite conceal the extraordinary craftsmanship. I look forward to reading many more of this fine poet’s poems! Thank you!
Now to look up the Irish Gaelic phrase tho context dues a good job of making doing so not necessary. Slainte, lad and lass!

[Denise Duhamel]

Welcome to the world of published poets, Abbie! Stunning poem.

[Terence Winch]

Grá mór duit, Clarinda.

[lally]

this first published poem is like having your first boxing match be with the champ and scoring a knockout...and all while demonstrating skill, finesse, and and fearlessness...

[S.F. Campbell]

Heart-breakingly beautiful.

[Geoffrey Himes]

As a "two-time loser" myself and a huge Mika fan, I too wish there was as much ceremony to mark our divorces as our weddings. I could see the small squares on the iPad and smell the urine in the air.

[Kimberly Ferguson]

Bravo, Abbie!

[Monica Daly]

An amazing portrayal of a heavy day. The way you express that moment is so well done. Congratulations on your first published poem!

[Eileen Reich]

Beautiful poem. Divorce is painful even when you seek it. This is a poem that touched my heart.

[Grace Cavalieri]

Nothing is as beautiful as clarity.

[V Burns]

Thank you, Abbie. Beautiful and moving.

[M. Scanlon]

Abbie, your words are so visual and so visceral at the same time. I am in that room, and on that couch, and experiencing your pets, and touching your heart. This work is so beautifully written.

[Liz Bruemmer]

Your ability to put so much into so few words is amazing. Thank you for sharing this!

[Howard Bass]

A most excellent poem in many ways and to which, alas, I can relate. This may be her first, but I'm pretty certain it won't be her last.

[Tina]

Stunning, powerful - so real, so good. Read it three times over - Amazing !

[Linda Hickman]

I like this poem a lot and can relate to the divorce experience. I like the visual imagery of the IPad judge as the poem unfolds.
Very nice and congratulations on this first published work.

[Michael Whelan]

All I can do is echo the kudos of the flow of comments. And it that on top of them, the poem was also fun to read !

[Elinor Nauen]

Wow! An auspicious debut indeed. More, please.

[Abbie Mulvihill]

Right now the greatest words to me are those that all of you have left in the comments. I am humbled and joyful. Thank you for these meaningful words of encouragement!

[Peter Kearney]

Our poet longs for emotion, something more than the disgust she feels for her attorney.But other feelings are emerging, like the longing to reverse time. Isn't the wish to have emotion itself a powerful feeling? If the rain is like tears, other feelings are on their way.