He fed the children but couldn’t
face food himself,
bathed and read to them, kept
losing his place which they
found funny and he thought they’d
never settle but when they did he was
alone with his imagination and his
churning insides and he couldn’t forget his
wife’s smile as she left for the bar where
she would now be
enveloped in a cloud of
unknowing men from which she would
make her choice.
He poured himself a drink and
pondered that it was his idea while his
finger of scotch became a fist and her
promise to come back with
cumbreath stiffened and
jellied him and he
stood with his drink in his own
cloud of unknowing,
waiting for her.
An interesting and thoughtful treatment of this prompt. I like the fact that you didn't look for an easy way of looking at it... :)
ReplyDeleteInteresting poem, leaves me wondering who is the power in the this scenario.
ReplyDeleteMollyxxx
I feel there's much more to this story, a very intriguing introduction!
ReplyDelete