We booked an offshore honeymoon
aboard a seagoing ant farm
on Zemblanity World Cruises,
whose unpublished business model
seeks to blur the dividing line
between coincidence and irony
by varnishing it with conflicting
aspects of the human condition.
   Add alcohol.

So what were the chances
I'd run into my ex, along with
her divorce recovery group,
celebrating in the Lido Deck Bar?

No, she's not bitter.
None of them are bitter.
It's a voyage to "new beginnings,"
they all say. Their first fun activity
will happen at sunset: a playful
rendition of a Voodoo water curse
where they toss old wedding albums
over the side.

I've had shortness of breath
ever since.

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R.A. Allen's poetry has appeared in the New York Quarterly, B O D Y, The Penn Review, RHINO, The Hollins Critic, The Los Angeles Review, Pennine Platform, and elsewhere. His work has been nominated for Best of the Net and two Pushcarts. He has short stories in publications such as The Literary Review, The Barcelona Review, PANK, and Best American Mystery Stories. He lives in Memphis, city of light and sound. bodyliterature.com/2020/02/17/r-a-allen/

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