I used to turn the corner to my street
with dread reluctance mounting in my heart,
preparing for the tensions I would meet
within my own front door. That stress was part
of every evening when I lived with him
I chose to let select me for his wife;
his willful neediness, erotic whim,
and emptiness had colonized my life.

I didn’t know then what I do today:
if I had walked another hundred feet
instead of turning left, I’d see the way
pedestrians can reach another street
through perfect quiet beauty. That’s how near
enchantment lay, beyond distress and fear.