Is and Ers

The glossy pictures

Of the perfect bathroom

Towel racks hung

With His and Hers.

Careful lift of the corner.

Turn the page

It slips from view.

A sigh, a twinge,

Someday… maybe.

With choices that were smarter

I would have a head that’s clearer

That would make my account richer

And my character kinder.

Then I’d have a body that was lovelier

And a house that was cleaner

Surely my heart would be happier

And I would grow much faster

To have everything bigger

And be a person who is better.

Ers.

All the Ers.

Elusive Ers.

Liars.

The towels.

I can’t blame embroidery.

Those satiny letters spelling out perfectly

His and Hers.

The good enough

Will have to be

The Is and the Ers.

My Ers

and His Is.

A marriage of truth.

The Ers that make me grumble and strive

Covered in the Is of Him all alive.

That is the enough

That I always have wanted.

Letting His sufficiency

Cover my insecurity.

Begging His complete

To fill my ends don’t meet.

Relieved at last I sigh

Exhale the h sound long.

The H stripped from the words

The two words of facade

Leaving loose strings

Tangles and a mess

Of all my Ers

And all His Is.