World's Greatest Husband

[this poem is dedicated to Ryan and Graham]

The post-it note you left me on the kitchen table
was short and snippy
(I’ve told you before
how much I hate post-it notes
damn it).

Apparently an implied
(or inferred
I can’t remember the difference)
promise
has been broken.

Something about the dishes in the sink
collecting mold and stinking up the whole house
(though, in all honesty,
I could not smell anything
in the living room).

I distinctly remember saying:
“I’ll try and do the dishes
before I leave for work.”

I did try.
If you would have looked at the pile
closely
you would have noticed
two spoons and a spatula
missing.

If you would have taken the time to look
you would have noticed those items
scrubbed and drying
along with my “World's Greatest Husband Mug.”

So my promised effort
was delivered.

This is too long to fit on a post-it note
so I’m writing it in a poem.