Monday, April 02, 2007

The Wife

They ask why I married her
Hagalena-faced, eyes that do not
Turn to stone, but can't
Both see me at once. I told them,
Saying, drunk: ugly women
Are better, when you come home.
Always waiting, ready,
Eager to please, doing anything
To keep us, terrified,
Knowing so much of loneliness
That they will never leave us.

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