by Jerry Ratch
His wife leans her head against a beam with her eyes closed
while he reads out loud.
Her mouth shut tightly, almost twisted shut. She's so weary.
She raises her collar and sinks further into her neck.
When he shouts, or explodes — nothing. Not a movement.
Her mouth remains shut in a down-turned frown.
Now it's the last sonnet.
Thank God it's over in 14 lines.
We know we can go home. Soon
it will be mercifully over.
10 more lines to go now!
Only ten more lines!
You can feel the excitement growing.
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a reading
Very funny.
Jerry, been there. Big time. Which conjures up its opposite, an inspired reading. Ultimately, it's in the mind of the listener/reader: and that can be a very strange place.
Poetry slam mania. I like it.