Written and read by Zack Darsee
chapter one
MY LEG HAD A FOOTNOTE
I was
not afraid. Was I afraid? Like a man
I went and got it checked for cancer
No cancer, said leg doctor
in chorus with skin doctor, eye doctor. It’s a footnote,
they sang, Happy happy!
You’ll be better off now
I ran home
Docs are lying, said the wife
in chorus with household items, dust. I understand
your concerns A GROWTH IS NO CIGAR
But listen
Here is the baby monitor
since I have to work
Propped up on cushions, we listened
for a week. We let my legs speak
their missives
their faxes
their needs
You could say I was at ease. I
wouldn’t like to say I
cowered but
you could say cowed
Though we differentiated in our outputs
the misses and I sometimes agreed
Admit it, legs
aren’t all that. Some of them
went I to wife
The wife frothed THE DUPLICITOUS
DELINQUENTS, the double- and quadruple-
crossing, etc. If you want to be a genius
about it you’d get rid of them
BE MODERN
Better off—
So it seemed
Inter ‘Course, communication, in marriage, had its nups and bounds. Tides ruled the roost. A man couldn’t plead
the first, much less the fifth
Occasionally
I dug
her drawers to reenforce
It was only natural to take such liberties
Leg doctor was actually pleased to alleviate my ankles
my enemies. I brought along the monitors, their
fascicles, my proof. She said, It’s true
the feet are the warriors
of the soul
but sometimes
You should watch your wife, sir
She said, I would never listen to feet
I would never have advised it. Ears
hearing the lower parts
can become pathologenic
It doesn’t take much
You should get them checked, she
mentioned. My wife has a good
practice if you cross the backyard
I swung through the trees
chapter two
IN TREES I kept banging into billboards
Curse my nephew Edward!
His face cut the canopy with his painted CV
DIAL NOW TO DELETE
I swung through advertisements
TRIED EVERYTHING?
NOW YOU CAN REDUCE
At leg doctor’s wife doctor
Who sent you?
Not telling, I answered
in mood after Edward
I did a few pull-ups on the table’s lip
No reference
her secretary wrote below my name
Not Edward
Feeling sorry for myself, I swung
back by telephone
But later
in heights, nearly blubbed for the masses
who struggled as they walked. Limit limit li mit li mit li
mit, the way their poor feet talked!
Not me, Not Edward
My hands groped the network, my arms
swooped and swung
BETTER CONNECTIONS THAN
A CENTRAL STATION
Those lines, communicating, crackled
and wires tickled when I hung
I laughed through the trees
chapter three
I THREW OUT THE BABY monitors
so she could forget
Doc’s voice echoed watch your wife, sir
By now I could only use my hands
against that binaural burning
which unfortunately mounted
when I touched her sighs
Actually better, she wrote after sex, great
massages and margilingus marginalia
but what’s with his head
I know because I read it
For the industry, I had
learned to read
Respectively, a deadbolt remained on our
poor, poor ears, which
rang and ring-ranged
like a distraction
Seems to me they get in the way of the pillow, said I from sleeping-position
NO, wife lied
Seems to me they get in the way of the wife
I said No
She pet her journal like a lap-dog
It seemed the truth was in the pages. As she powdered the face in a concave mirror, respectfully, I realized
I couldn’t help
if her lips gripped these limits
I allowed her her differences, like a man
I took matters into my own hands
TALK IS FOR THE WEAK
chapter four
BASICALLY A PART of my morning routine, leg doc had written on the ceiling
as a joke when the analgesia wore off. When I
fuzzed and swung my fist into a silicone ass
and leg doc screamed affectionately, for effect
I did and did not get the joke
Look doc, no ears
I wrote
Eh,
doc?
No problem
I was pinched and perfect, an imperative
A beetle on its back
On my raised arm, a new footnote tingled
She’s not like me, doc
I’m glad we met, doc
Dear Not Edward,
No legs, no ears, no need for marginalalia,
no wife? No problem. SIMPLICITY IS
THE NEW COMPLEX
Just refer to our renovations!
A shrug as high as my surgeons,
Signed
Wife who was once the rational siphon of my heart
Quit her job as hall monitor
Made babies out of mop dust
Like birds, her pages decorated our exteriors
Editorially
Considering
I now made my own decisions
I had to learn to read between the lips
the treetips
I laughed a lot these days
above fluff of foot traffic
in paragraphs of foliage
As I swung home
between the tree margins
sometimes I got
splinters
As I swung to office
splinters
which sung
Better off!
From What to do about the wife: Chapters 1-4
(c) 2025 Zack Darsee