Monday, February 8, 2016

THE SPECIMEN WORLD

A rifle shot comes
from the direction of Main Street,
but the sounding doves outside
the bedroom aren’t startled,
and the noise of traffic
hasn’t stopped.

I should pull the window shade up,
let in the eye-riveting light,
call again for help
from one of the strangers
who moved in.
The darlings always keep busy.

They must be struggling
to make sense of the laundry
hung out to dry on the porch.
I will give the sheets names
for when it gets dark,
and give them a piece of my mind, too,
for their flirty bedevilment.

I’ve always known my husband
couldn’t be trusted.

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