Melissa Balmain

Math Problem

One for me and one for you —
Each time you shopped, you brought home two:
twin coats and hats,
twin pairs of flats,
twin welcome mats
(brown, stubbled).
Once I was grown I joined the game:
For me, one thing, for you, the same:
twin scarves and shrugs,
twin coffee mugs,
twin bowls, plates, jugs
(clear, bubbled).
So now that one of us is left,
how come I'm feeling twice bereft
when all I own —
cloth, metal, stone,
carved, blown, cast, sewn —
has doubled?

Melissa Balmain edits Light, North America’s longest-running journal of comic poetry, and teaches at the University of Rochester. Her poems and/or prose have appeared in Crab Orchard Review, Ecotone, The Hopkins Review, Literary Matters, McSweeney’s, The New Yorker, The New York Times, Nimrod, Poetry Daily, and Rattle. She’s the author of three poetry collections, including Walking in on People (chosen by XJ Kennedy for the Able Muse Book Award) and, most recently, Satan Talks to His Therapist (Paul Dry Books). She is also a recovering mime.