Breaking Up, Breaking Apart, Breaking Down
I claimed the kitchen table
that was a gift from my aunt
six months before her death.
You claimed the loveseat and couch,
the only possessions you owned
that had belonged to your deceased father.
The entertainment center was a joint purchase.
We flipped a coin.
You won.
The TV a gift from your mother.
The DVD player a gift from mine.
We each purchased a bookshelf,
placed them side by side
in the sunroom. We thought,
cute—a metaphor.
While you watched,
I trashed the journal
you gifted me on our first Christmas.
The inscription became a joke:
Looking forward to memories together,
future husband.
I retrieved the journal when you were out of sight.
I never saw it again.
I refused to look in the fireplace.
I slipped your copy of Plato: Complete Works
into one of my boxes. You marked
so many passages over the years—
some to share with students and friends,
some to serve as your own inspiration.
You asked for months that I return the book.
I lied for months until you stopped asking.
Here’s the truth—
I’ll never regret stealing your book.
About the Author: Dustin Brookshire is the 2024 recipient of the Jon Tribble Editors Fellowship awarded by Poetry by the Sea. His chapbooks include Never Picked First For Playtime (Harbor Editions, 2023), Love Most Of You Too (Harbor Editions, 2021), and To The One Who Raped Me (Sibling Rivalry Press, 2012). Dustin is the co-editor of Let Me Say This: A Dolly Parton Poetry Anthology (Madville Publishing, 2023). Find him online at dustinbrookshire.com.
Image Credit: Jacob Byerly “Double portrait of a young man” (1860) Digital image courtesy of Getty’s Open Content Program.
As It Ought To Be 