The smoking gun
was the
two corners of the
blanket turned down
to the middle.

It was the dirty
pillow case,
my pillow case.

It was the smell of sex
in the bathroom,
on the towels,
in the tub.

Canceled checks,
home 2 hours early.

It was the wolverine
bed fellow that slept
behind my ribcage.

When I had my arm
around her.

The little mammal that
snacked on my anger
was chewing through
my guts.

I asked her.

She told me.

I was being
silly
Slipping her tongue in
behind the words, pushing them
down to feed the angry
little beast.

I was being silly

Wasn't I.