Jeanette Rodriguez

I married him young,

before God and my family,

standing in the church,

walking in the aisle,

running through the rain

of rice and well wishes,

flowers, tears, smiles.

It wasn’t long before he took

another woman,

a year or two had passed,

maybe she was there all along.


Boldly calling me,

announcing her presence,

giving her name

so defiantly over the phone,

proud she had taken my husband,

bragging she bought him clothes,

taken him out, changed him.


For me, the act of breaking my heart,

finding the truth, enduring the pains of betrayal,

that act earned me a grand prize—

an expensive, papered, pampered Chihuahua.


I named him Macho

after the Puerto Rican prize fighter

I had learned to become married to this man.


Years after her,

the aisle, the church, and God,

I stood with my family in court,

before the judge,

walking the aisle

running through rain, tears, smiles,

having earned a grand prize—

an expensive paper divorcing me from

the Puerto Rican fighter my husband had become,

still holding my Chihuahua, Macho.

2015 copyright by Katie Pifer available at

Original art by Brian Viveros, “Evil Last” available at



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