Letter to a lifer

featured in the poetry forum January 19, 2012  :: 0 comments


I hope this letter finds you well.
There’s no easy way to say this
so I’ll just blurt it right out.
You know you always said
I should find somebody else?
His name is Mark, I think you’d like him.
He’s so selfless and loves the kids.
He doesn’t, can’t love them like you do,
but it’s killing them that you’re gone
for so long, and me too.
I know why you did it and will always stand by you,
but we’re all in a sentence.
Mark is the same age as me and he has a good job.
I know this isn’t going to help much,
but he supports United.
Forgive me. I’d like a divorce.

All my love,
Rosie xx

editors note:

This is one sad “day in the life” with sentence unsaid, but pragmatism poetic. Sorry, Phil! – mh


featured in the poetry forum November 23, 2011  :: 0 comments

She feels awkward because she doesn’t talk
to other mothers in the playground.
She thinks they think she’s odd,
not the mothering kind.
It cuts, but she can’t tolerate the children’s cries
for the swings, roundabout, and slide.

She lets her husband get on with it,
and do what he has to do.
She wants a lover.
She’s a size 16 and used to be a 10.
She’s a facade, a housewife,
trapped in family bidding.

On Thursdays she goes to night-school.
She doesn’t actually like embroidery;
it’s independence.
The class has a male, but she wants
a MAN.

Her husband should know her,
but he’s too self-absorbed.
She’s him in a skirt.
He doesn’t talk to barbers,
and has to change them regularly.

He has poor sex, so he jacks off with magazines.
He’s 16 stone and out of shape. Who would he turn on?
He paints a glaze, and lives a robotic life.

He has one friend who never rings him up.
They drink.
It doesn’t register that with his wife,
they’re so fucking


editors note:

We hear, “No man is an island,” ad nauseum. This one begs to differ; poetically, truthfully so. Bridges! Poets, all; conjure bridges! – mh