EMILY HYLAND

Unexpected Overnight at My Parents’ During Hospice

It is late. I do not have a toothbrush—
rummage through for backups,
land on a Ziploc bag of
three in plastic holders,
tiny colorful coffins
tucked away from sunlight like
quiet vampires in hibernation,
two are unlabeled—on the third, my
ex-husband’s name, written
with the wand of thick nail polish,
in magenta: “Brad.” My mother’s cursive.
And I meet him here now
among my choices, remember
we traveled once with backpacks
through hostels with only
one towel between us. Big beach
terry cloth, striped blue and white
in wide frames of ink dye. Did not
wash it. How my mother was appalled
when we visited with our laundry,
heaps of stagnant clothes, sweaty
with summer in the groins.
How it was no big deal
to pop his toothbrush in my mouth
at any house. Far from my mind
as Mom is going—he returns
as letters varnished onto a cannister,
and having haunted some dusty
wicker bathroom basket
all these long, long years.

Emily Hyland’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Apple Valley Review, armarolla, Belle Ombre, Belletrist Magazine, The Brooklyn Review, The Conglomerate, Mount Hope Magazine, Neologism Poetry Journal, Sixfold, Palette Poetry, The Virginia Normal, and Stretching Panties. A restauranteur and English professor from New York City, she received her MFA in poetry and her MA in English education from Brooklyn College. Her cookbook, Emily: The Cookbook, was published by Ballantine Books, an imprint of Random House, in 2018. She is a member of the Squaw Valley Community of Writers and studies writing with Mirabai Starr at Ghost Ranch in New Mexico. Emily is the cofounder of the national restaurant groups Pizza Loves Emily and Emmy Squared Pizza.