I’ve started to baptize my pets
after the things we’ve lost:
my dog Brooklyn, after the place we first kissed;
my cat Winter, after the season
that changed us.
Each day I repeat the names
of my pets, and am reminded
of a chasm
I fill with mindless
let’s go to the park.
Winter, get off the couch.
Today I named my bonsai
and the ladybug that made its way onto
my headboard Love.
On Mondays I write my to-do list:
water Loyalty; make sure Love
gets plenty of sunshine.
I will continue my naming ritual
—turning our memories into nouns
I can grasp—until the day
the minutiae of daily duties
outweigh their initial meaning
until all our memories have been
christened with the trivial, and our
marriage has dissolved