You Can’t Get to Heaven without E-van

I saw a poem on Facebook this morning, and I posted it to the Husband’s timeline, because it has never felt like a more accurate description. “…To be loved like a poet loves words…” My God, I feel like every time I write a poem it’s some sort of vocabularian masturbation. Word whacking aside, this is my feeble attempt to describe in my poetic words my poetic love for my completely non-poetic husband. Who always reads my poems before I publish (except this), who reads every sentence I ever write, patiently lets me grill him into criticizing me, and typically angrily tells me to shut up whenever I tell him how much I suck at writing…. As Stephen King said, every writer needs an ideal reader, and there is no one more ideal then my Bubba.


If I would type every second

Of every passing day

There wouldn’t be enough words – despite an eternity of clacking

Anything I could draft would be empty – like foam in a beer glass

Something as petty as pretty words – cannot convey what you mean to me


In truth, I know so many, and I easily toss them around

Some of them are vulgar

Some of them outright crude

Some of them might be critical

Depending on my mood, it’s most likely right but, rude


Yet no matter how my black and white dog barks

No matter how our dogs bit

No matter how many teeth marks

No matter how many re-opened scars

I still get to wake up next to you


I don’t know how we do this

I don’t know how we always get through

I know in all my darkness, there is always safety in you

I know in all your silence, my eyes can see right through

We went from fighting fists to total bliss

Only a decade or so overdue


On the day I became your wife

The programs proudly read

Today I marry my Best Friend

Today this poem is thanking him

For being everything when I am not


You are the one who keeps me here

Two feet on the ground

You are the one who reminds me to swim

When all I want is to drown


You are always the light

At the end of my darkest tunnels

You and I created this life

I never again want to imagine it with someone else


I love you, I love you, I love you again

To eternities of sleepovers with my best friend

To idiotic laughter and yogic faceplants

To watching our kids grow and becoming grandparents

To watching me become old, and my hair go gray and straight

To watching you continue to shave, because you’re already bald

Because you are the one who made me believe I could stay around that late

You are the one who made me dream endings not ending in -ide

Because you are my E-van, my ticket to Heaven

Even though E-van does not rhyme with Evan

I love you Bubba.



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