Thursday, January 29, 2015

To Brunhilde, My New Cat

To Brunhilde, My New Cat
I understand
You needed reassurance.
You were being impossible,
Feeling insecure.
So I got out the oven mitts
Engaged a fist fight in the closet
With you snarling at me
On my sweaters.
I told you to get off them
And get real.
Now you purr wildly
Whip around my legs
Throw your lean body at me,
Demand attention, tail high in the air,
A true female, a hundred percent
Siamese lilac point, and I rueful
In the middle of a divorce
Watch you in slight envy
Nose twitching
Stand my ground
Desiring never be in
Your shoes again.

The Wife of All Husbands


The world and his wife came.

Oh no no, you are mistaken

His wife was his world.

The reins, she made sure,

Were in her hands,

All his contacts carefully

Screened, the sieve was a very

Tight knit, like her vagina

He believed. The sacred home where,

All heaving hearth and rarely uplifted joy,

He fantasized one day sooner than later,

A tornado would ravage the homestead;

He would become king at table awaiting his supper.

Super was never known to cook itself in a cornfield.

Menu planning was not the world’s strong suit,

He just fancied the maid.

Stepping Into My Old Life
It has not yet been a year.
This headache is killing me.
Same tired social setting: the party
At which again I found one person to
Talk to; the concert in which I again
Sang rather mediocrely; the dinner
Invitation where I again watched my friends
Spin in their own muck unchanged,
Trying to make the best of it. Spatter.
It, spatter, has not yet been a year.
This headache is killing me.
Dawning social setting:
Alone in my apartment I cannot
Simply read and sip ginger tea,
Coping with Brunhilde’s clingy attitude.

I told her I had formally requested
To round it off soundly at the lawyer’s office:
We’d officially separate the bank
Accounts on our fifteenth wedding anniversary.
She told him.
She told me of their plans to celebrate
Their first time sex anniversary. An ecstasy pill each,
The children farmed out for the weekend.
He told her.
Instead of giving her rapture he confessed
His three month old mistress, rounding off
The ten years they had slept together.
Maybe not such a brilliant idea after all.

No comments:

Post a Comment