Cutting My Losses

I can’t remember
what we used to eat for dinner
or how we spent Sunday afternoons–

moments of repetitive gestures
of affection nothing so important–

ten years and all I can recall
are memories of fights, indelible pains,
and a few lovemakings.

The smell of onions slowly roasting
the cool air from the garden at dusk
you telling me of your day
me chopping the parsley for the tabbouleh–

moments of happiness destined
to be recycled and forgotten.

Pearls on the rosary of life
needed to recount my story
yet my mind will obliterate this perfect moment unless

–I stare at the knife…