Emily's Letter to her Husband's Lover
Sometimes I suffer still
from envy of things I don't want.
It feels like defeat. Truth, like a glacial mirror,
shimmers with reality. Are you, perhaps,
the lucky one whose portion of desire
will not dim with use.
You know things. You gave him a pool cue
as a gift where I'm not even sure how to spell it.
There was a time I dreamed of making love
each day. Soon scent and music were left out.
Desire wilted on the windowsill
while he still tried to soothe me
with his ice-cold hands of generous indifference.
Today—this feels like progress—I don't envy
you this roller coaster ride, this steep ascent
of open-mouthed anticipation, then
the gentling to a shaky stop.
I slip the curtain from each morning, step
into the sunlight of regret. I almost kept him
on the shelf with all the trophies. He doesn't belong
there, though my ego keens
about the empty space.
I am grateful I had fire once, a wedding
night, a single sequin on a velvet gown.
I do not want to have my edges dulled
or his. I imagine you together,
he freshly showered, his eyes drip warmth.
Perhaps you can keep desire alive.
I yearn for my own season of hunger.
Much to admire here, not least the honesty of the narrator's voice.
And, of course: "Truth, like a glacial mirror / shimmers with reality"
*
Agree with Bill about the voice here. An amazing piece; strong work. A favorite moment:
"I slip the curtain from each morning, step
into the sunlight of regret. I almost kept him
on the shelf with all the trophies. He doesn't belong
there, though my ego keens
about the empty space."
*
A very exciting read
"...envy of things I don't want," the human curse.
Emily is real!
Well done.
"I slip the curtain from each morning, step
into the sunlight of regret."
Heartbreaking, defiant and strong.
"I am grateful I had fire once,"
Enjoyed this poem very much.
"...then the gentling to a shaky stop." I had to find a line to love that was not repetitive here in comments. It wasn't difficult.
Thank you Bill, Sam, Ivan, Mathew, Gary, Darryl, Erika, and Dianne. Your words mean so much to me.
"ice cold hands of generous indifference"
Much to admire, as Bill Yarrow has said.
and "I yearn for my own season of hunger."
Oh my. *
A fine poem. *
This one definitely breathes and conjures.
*****
Kitty, Tim, Ann, James - thank you!
A bit late to this, but wow, so glad I found it! Line after line, feelings and images jump from the page. Really liked this one:
"ice-cold hands of generous indifference"
Great writing, Beate ***