The Man Abandoned for Love
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
The widow stares with pewter irises
Out through the window. Gilding wouldn’t help.
He left too little. Now the viruses
Of poverty begin to creep. A yelp
For pity, that would make her pathetic
A worn-out doily on a garbage heap.
Fate, soiled yellow, quite soon frenetic
Will grab her. Devil possession will leap
To drag her and her seven-year-old down.
He looks too very like the man she loved
And gave him to her womb. The husband’s frown
Would be disgust if he knew who had shoved.
If husband knew who shoved his semen in,
He would have turned to leprosy within.
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