The Happiest Couple on
Comfort Street
by Susan Culver

In winter, she turned,
wrapped her arms around the thin man,
his wracking cough, took him to bed
and they slept her way out of a job, existed
on canned soup, toast with jam, his meager
disability.  They gave up chairs to sit on the counters,
on the floors; grew dust on the shutters
and they wore their slippers, chattered of dreams:
the kind where the elephant breaks free
from the galley and runs through the postcard,
a paintbrush wrapped in its delicate trunk.

One warm morning, he fixed her bathroom sink
and she drove him to the country to see the geese,
their wings gone gold and distant as the hours.
He called her laughter that gentle havoc,
liked the way the sun rested on her hair.

He never said he was afraid of his own death.
Only once did she beg him not to go.




                   ____________________________


Susan Culver lives in Colorado with her husband and three
daughters.  She is a news reporter and the editor of
Poetry Friends.  
Formerly, she was the editor of
Lily: A Monthly Online Review.  
Her poetry and fiction have been published in a number of journals,
both print and online.  “The Happiest Couple on Comfort Street” is
the title piece for her forthcoming collection,
Comfort Street, to be
published later this fall.


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Apple Valley Review:
A Journal of Contemporary
Literature
 

ISSN 1931-3888

Volume 3, Number 2
(Fall 2008)

Copyright © 2008
by Leah Browning, Editor.  

All future rights to material
published in the
Apple
Valley Review
are retained
by the individual authors
and artists.

www.applevalleyreview.com