Friday, 8 April 2016

The Bet

The bet was no more than
five minutes before someone
offered to buy her a drink, her
husband watching
his watch.

The bet was no more than
nominal to her after
two births and feeling
dowdy despite the new

The bet was no more than
four minutes old when a
man offered and she
shrugged, said yes, accepted
she’d lost.

The bet was no more than
a regret as she laughed and
accepted a second drink, wondering
when her husband would

The bet was no more than
a memory when she felt his
erection against her thigh as he
leant in to whisper in
her ear.

The bet was no more than
a vague recollection as she
felt his hands on her forgotten body,
caught across the bar her husband’s
hot eyes.

The bet was no more,
mislaid as she
pulled his lips to hers,
took his hand and
stood up.

(Image used by kind permission of to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)


  1. Yep, it's confirmed -- This is our favorite one yet! ~C

  2. The poem is perfect for the image. Love how the Bet receded.