Wednesday He Won
By Barbara West

Woke up not knowing but with
a stomach feeling.

Texted you to find out.
You afraid to turn on the TV.

I asked again. Twice.
You turned it on.

He won, you said, I’m leaving the country!
I drove to work, sun was rising,
traffic was not bad.

My car sounded like it was falling apart
It was, but just a small piece underneath.

Dr. Doubay verbally abused me at work
I wasn’t the only one crying
the patient’s wife, maybe even the patient.

I called the chief of surgery.
He called the administrator.
She found the patient in the parking lot and brought him back.
Dr. Doubay apologized, then snipped the puckering stitch.
Then he apologized to me
and he meant it.

I tucked-up the undercarriage and drove to you
only dragging a little.
Instead of leaving the country, you screwed my car back together.

Your father said a gentle grace and crossed himself.
I said Amen

It occurred to me he’d voted for him
so … I asked.

Well, “I’m like the man who voted for Trump and doesn’t want to admit it.
But I couldn’t vote for Her.”

Of course not.

Everything makes a little more sense
now that Wednesday’s almost over.