Polyamory from the Perspective of an Anniversary Card by Tyler Hurula

Of course you went straight 

to the queer section – with your purple

hair pulsing, upside down pink triangle 


radiating from your tattooed wrist. 

There’s a closet of cards glitter 

flavored and rainbow wrapped, 


but none for the polyamorous.

Your love is still a niche 

market. I whisper commitments 


of one and only – promises 

you’re not in the business of keeping.

You’ve curated a relationship


museum littered with expiration 

dates. The girlfriend who wrapped 

you in a brand new coat, but someone 


else was already keeping you

warm. The boyfriend who wanted you 

to move in, but you’d already signed a lease 


on another love. You got married 

knowing she’ll only second

guess each new cake you bake, wonder 


who you plan to serve

it to. Let me guess –

are you going to eat it, too?


You keep her gold-tied 

around your finger, but you’ll swipe

right on anyone, won’t you?


I’ll save you a sentiment in the divorce 

section. You’re just keeping your options

open for when they can’t


hug you without getting a headache

from the smell of someone else’s 

shampoo. You want to play


house with new someones 

anytime the music unspooling

from your love’s lips becomes background 


noise. It’s too familiar. You think 

it’s okay because everyone’s agreed 

to this arrangement? 


You’re just cheating

with permission. I’ll bet your floors

are muddled with apology 


notes. You want too much. 

Or maybe you’re just fucking

too much. Wrong store – 


we are wholesome here. You wander 

down this gallery

of greetings – we both know 


you won’t find the one. I watch

you walk down the aisle toward

the arts section instead. You come 


back grasping markers: the peach 

of her lipstick prints, burgundy

 roses blooming, his emerald eyes, 


the indigo sky from your late 

night drives. These colors ink 

out from each altered


hallmark. The linoleum floods in poly-

chrome pools. You rewrite my insides

to say, When faced with one and only,


I choose

     to believe

love exists

     in infinities.



Tyler Hurula (she/her) is a poet based in Denver, Colorado. She is queer and polyamorous, and is a cat mom to two fur babies and a plethora of plants. Her poems have been published previously in Anti-Heroin Chic, and Aurum Journal. Her poems feature love, polyamory, family, growing up, and being queer. Her top three values are connection, authenticity, and vulnerability; she tries to encompass these values in her writing as well as everyday life.