Published in Planet: the Welsh Internationalist, 185 (October/November 2007).

 

 I love you for when I tell you at ten o clock at night that I’ve forgotten to cook the rice,

You tell me “Great, we can have sandwiches then.”

As if having sandwiches for dinner was the one thing you married me for;

I love you for how instead of yelling at me when I casually shut the refrigerator door

Not noticing that you have your head still stuck inside,

You just give me a look that tells me how exasperating I am

And always have been; but how you love me anyway.

I love you because after all the years I’ve known you

I still leave my clothes in a heap on the floor

(Or on a sofa or the bed as the mood takes me)

And you never take my clothes and throw them out the window

The way I sometimes throw away the memories you keep collecting

When you’re not looking.

I love you for a multitude of reasons —

Some of them are odd, some even odder.

But mostly I love you because

Whenever I dream

Of growing so old that my skin is just about ready to fall off,

You’re always there

In my dreams

Picking up pieces of me

As I leave them lying by the wayside.