Donkeys, Dan & Death Doulas

by Leslie Shalduha

In my house, preparing to leave Dan

In secret

He not knowing that my daughter and I are leaving

Next door at Candy & Slim’s

I see two donkeys

Hitched to carts

Standing and waiting for their riders

As I watch, the donkeys get spooked

One takes off like a bat out of hell

Up the road

Carts bouncing crazily

With traffic zooming by

As it zigs and zags

A long cord between animal and cart

Crosses both lanes of traffic

And a car is rodeoed

Causing the destruction of donkey and cart

Donkey goes one way, cart the other

I panic, screaming

I run next door begging for help

Asking Slim

“Who does the donkey belong to”

Angela is there, the death doula

She gathers her tools

And steps outside, where she blesses a

Hamburger bun

As if it were the donkey

Picking at it and removing bits of debris

I finally shake the confusion and say

“No, no, he is up there, on the road”

In the meantime, I go back in the house

Dan is on the bed, nude

I lay beside him and he reaches for me

He shows me two paychecks for $50K

He tells me “This is what I made for that job.”

A job that took him only a few hours

As if this will impress me

As if this will make me stay

Though he is not supposed to know I am leaving

He tries to initiate sex

But I deflect, saying folk just outside the door

I look at him then

Admiring his beautiful body, muscular and trim

His waist spectacularly narrow and defined

And I say to him

“My, how good you look

Are you still going to the gym then?”

Cause for some reason I did not know

The answer

When I know that if he were alive

He was, of course, going to the gym

His identity and all

I question why I am leaving him

This beautiful man

But I remember the donkey and head outside

I approach the downed donkey and

See she is still alive

I untangle her from the wreckage

She jumps up and begins to run once again

Dragging one piece of her harness with her

I chase after her

Trying to free her from that harness

But she wants it and fights me

Like a dog with a favorite chew toy

So I let her go, watching her run

Awkwardly down the road with that harness

Dropping it and turning to pick it back up

With her donkey teeth over and over

She is a donkey

I know she is a donkey

So why does she look like a soft toy

Stuffed with cooked pasta

Made by the silly blond woman on

The Vicar of Dibley?

Previous
Previous

Menopausian Journey, Part 3

Next
Next

Mean As A Snake