An Exercise in Staring at the Ceiling and Contemplating Divorce

By P.L. Sanchez

Focus on the fan. Watch the blades,
spinning in circles. They want us to believe

they’re an army. Smart.

We know it’s a covert operation, a five-blade job.
Those blades can spin, yes, they can.

Focus on the fan. Let’s say the fan’s married.
The fan’s a fan of Lionel Richie.

He sings Richie tunes to his wife.

She quietly ignores him, checks her watch every two minutes.
The fan’s wife has a lover. He’s got blades, too. They can spin, too.

Focus on the fan’s wife. For a time, she knew nothing
but her husband’s iron. What makes her leave him?

It’s the housing. Too decorative, too flowery.

She wants the sinful motor screws, iron made of iron and not glass.
She’s in love with the green of his lights, not the pale yellow.

Focus on the lover. He spins quietly. He knows little
of the fan’s wife. They met, he believes, at a bar.

Or was it a restaurant? She was his server.

He was being served. Divorce papers from his ex.
Even fans need to cope with rust on their blades.

 

P.L. Sanchez is a Peruvian journalist and poet. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Rattle, Bayou, Fjords Review, and decomP.