When poet Maggie Smith’s Good Bones went viral, it helped to expose a faultline at the centre of her marriage. What happened when the true dynamic of her relationship was revealed?
The poem was published online in the journal Waxwing the following June – the same week as the Pulse nightclub massacre in Orlando and the murder of MP Jo Cox in England.
My occasional travel had been a sore spot in our marriage since before Good Bones went viral, but more and more requests were coming in to my speakers agency because of that poem.
Even if I arranged after-school playdates for the kids, even if I planned for my parents to be available until he arrived home from work, who would pack the school lunches?
When my husband travelled for work, I looked forward to his return – especially if the kids were sick or I had multiple deadlines of my own – but the daily fires were ones I was used to putting out myself.
When my husband introduced me at the release party for my second book of poems, The Well Speaks of Its Own Poison, in 2015, I was standing off to the side of the stage, my arm around our daughter, holding her close.
A few weeks later, I was sitting on the left side of the couch looking at the marriage counsellor, sensing my husband’s tense presence to my right.
The original article contains 2,260 words, the summary contains 206 words. Saved 91%. I’m a bot and I’m open source!
This is the best summary I could come up with:
The poem was published online in the journal Waxwing the following June – the same week as the Pulse nightclub massacre in Orlando and the murder of MP Jo Cox in England.
My occasional travel had been a sore spot in our marriage since before Good Bones went viral, but more and more requests were coming in to my speakers agency because of that poem.
Even if I arranged after-school playdates for the kids, even if I planned for my parents to be available until he arrived home from work, who would pack the school lunches?
When my husband travelled for work, I looked forward to his return – especially if the kids were sick or I had multiple deadlines of my own – but the daily fires were ones I was used to putting out myself.
When my husband introduced me at the release party for my second book of poems, The Well Speaks of Its Own Poison, in 2015, I was standing off to the side of the stage, my arm around our daughter, holding her close.
A few weeks later, I was sitting on the left side of the couch looking at the marriage counsellor, sensing my husband’s tense presence to my right.
The original article contains 2,260 words, the summary contains 206 words. Saved 91%. I’m a bot and I’m open source!