Marching Orders

i.

The day I left my husband,
a crew was tearing up
the road outside our house,
peeling away asphalt I thought
would be there forever,
easy as navel orange rind.

They had been working down
the street the last week,
a sign near them blinking
“OPEN TRENCH”,
then “SLOW SLOW”
in dull orange bulbs. I heard
this in my head for days

OPEN TRENCH
SLOW SLOW
OPEN TRENCH
SLOW SLOW

ii.

My parents came out to help me
find a fridge for the new place
after the one I bought for twenty
bucks smelled so bad, I was scared
to go in the kitchen.

We stared into empty white Frigidaires
for hours, dazed by the clean, bright light,
then fell into step on the sidewalk—
our legs in perfect unintended synch,
arms laced around each other’s backs like
Rockettes—and my dad began to call
out one of his Army marching chants:

I had a good home and I left
I had a good home and I left
Left right left right left right
Leftright!

We were giddy with our rhythm
until the words sank in, and then
I was glad their arms were around me
because they had to hold me up.

I had a good home and I left
I had a good home and I left

iii.

I had a good home
SLOW SLOW
and I left
SLOW SLOW SLOW

Open trench
SLOW SLOW
and I     left
                     right
          left
                    right
          left
                    right
leftright 

I had a home.
I was entrenched.
I found an opening
and I left.

SLOW
SLOW

Right?

I had a good home.
I dug a slow trench.
I may not have left right.
But I opened.
And I left.

---

Gayle Brandeis is the author of Fruitflesh: Seeds of Inspiration for Women Who Write (HarperOne), and the novels The Book of Dead Birds (HarperCollins), which won Barbara Kingsolver’s Bellwether Prize for Fiction of Social Engagement, Self Storage (Ballantine), Delta Girls (Ballantine), and My Life with the Lincolns (Henry Holt Books). Two books are forthcoming in 2017: a memoir, The Art of Misdiagnosis (Beacon Press), and a collection of poetry, The Selfless Bliss of the Body (Finishing Line Press).