She spent her youth being driven around
from one all-night party to its hangover.
But she eyed the big life.
Big house, big pool, big dogs and a man with a big
bank balance.
So she married one of her hangovers.
Investment banker with a five-star outlook.
Two-star personality.
The trade-off is in the diamonds
and a bun already in the oven.
Became the typical wife.
Learnt patience with a monumental ass of a husband,
cleaning up his drunken puke and rebuke,
sweeping a thousand misgivings
under various Persian carpets.
Now he sits at home-
a whisky in hand is better at two in the afternoon.
She leans over the kitchen counter,
sharpening her knives
to cut him some slack.
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2 comments:
When I read poems like this, I wonder why you're not counted among our most successful contemporary poets. This is such a complete poem - love it.
Thank you so much, Liam. Hearing things like that makes me stop wondering about the futility of what I write. :)
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