Canticle for My Husband
   
     by Nadine Lockhart


O bless bless the day you rode into town from Las Cruces you standing tall in the 
post office me silently voicing that’s that guy bless you asking if I needed help, 
bless you giving me numbers, yes, yes, bless the numbers your work number 
your home number your address 860 Sixth, bless 860 Sixth on 6/24 bless 
Thursday morning when we met, bless Friday when you call bless Friday when 
you call on the phone, bless the phone, bless Friday afternoon as I wait, bless 
Friday evening when you call in person, bless El Maguey in Mexico, bless Mexico, 
bless the frozen Margaritas, blessed Margaritas, blessed rim of salt and 
lime, bless the more I don’t order but want, bless the intimidation of Saint You, 
bless your purity, bless the one drink each, bless it and eat the chips, the dipping 
salsas, the blessed four—warm bean, pico de gallo, the salsa and the salsa verde, 
bless bless, bless the dinner, bless the shrimp so far from the blessed sea, bless 
the shrimp and its buttery scent of ocean and garlic, and ocean and rice, and rice 
and rice, bless the question, How did you get so wise?—bless that line you’ve used 
before on others, bless the others, bless the others you’ve fucked and kissed and 
dropped, bless the others who perfumed their ears and bit the air, bless the others 
unregarded as we eat paletas on the corner, bless the paletas, the chile piña and 
the chile mango, bless the fibrous fruit—hot, cold and sweet, bless the paletas 
melting to the border, bless the border, bless bless the border, bless the patrol 
who asks if we know how many times your car has crossed, a lot, you say, bless his 
nod in agreement, bless his face without a blessed smile, bless the car, bless bless 
the blue Volvo, its rotted interior, bless rot, bless borders, bless numbers, bless 
the accountability of drivers who eat paletas across the border, bless the shrimp, 
our lips, your kiss, bless the way I eat off your plate, the memory of El Maguey, 
bless bless the Volvo sold a year later, orange-tagged at the end of the block, 
bless the new owner who abandoned the car full of visible pennies spilled on the 
console, bless they who abandoned the car unlocked with a console full of pennies, 
they who abandoned the car to vandals who broke the back window and smashed a side 
mirror, bless the end of our date after paletas, after the border, bless our sleepy 
conversation in your parked car outside my house, bless bless sleep, bless when you 
did not walk me to the door, bless the door.