Back to Joan Pond's Artist PageTo the Artist's Page               Back to the Unlikely Stories home pageTo our home page
Spring CleaningTo Joan Pond's previous piece      Sitting ShivaTo Joan Pond's next piece


His Standards

I sat on Paul’s bed while using the phone.
Speaking to my husband, 
I had no fear of being alone,
only the angst of being with someone,
simply,
to assuage my loneliness.
This room with its mis-matched set;
discards from a former life.
All the things his wife no longer valued.
I hung the phone and fluffed the bed
never wanting to lie there again.
I seem to value my husband, 
most,
when others don’t meet his standards.