She
was the other woman
with cleavage-neckline of bulging
breasts
packed into a double “D;” teased
hair, a blonde bee-hive; swinging
from each ear - crystal
chandeliers.
Onyx big as coal on her stuck up pinky.
Cigarette dangling, its burning glows
between ringed diamonds, emeralds,
rubies
large as ice cubes floating face down
in a cold long-stemmed drink that
fingernails lacquered in blood-red
curled around the neck of.
All she had to do was keep her watch
synchronized with his, decorate
his black-suited arm. “His”
whenever he wanted to. Her reward –
dresses, jewels, plenty of money
to pay the uptown rent. Until the day
he blew to pieces while keying his front
door.
Her eviction; sale of jewels – furs –
and gold.
Last 40 years spent waitressing tables
at the local windowless bar. “Regulars”
know her fairy tale gone wrong, a
reverse
Cinderella alone every midnight sweeping
and mopping up floors. Cleaning
toilets.
No Godmother or Godfather
to grant wishes, only rags and worn
canvas sneakers. Sunken smile rotting;
eyes vacant like a left over
jack-o-lantern
still around after Thanksgiving.
Wedlock
I.
He swung me by my
tits around the room
unitl I was dizzy
then ripped out my
vagina
three times
my nerves stood at
attention
electrified by fear
I almost crossed the
street into
snapped out - Darkness
an extra inch and my
mind may have…
Tears tired out my
pillow
hibernating under
blankets
wrapped in a safe cocoon
until he’d strip me bare
I walked like a zombie
for days
my flesh eaten
my blood drank
venom heated my veins
to boiling blue levels –
that is when
I learned the definition
of hate
II.
After fifteen years
I hung the dirty laundry
on the line
no longer cared if
neighbors saw stains
dirty underwear
I wanted to leave
but…
the children
always my cherubs
fluttered their innocent
wings
holding my heart
their dazzling white
forgiveness
untainted love.
III.
I threw all clutter
into a bin
got rid of bag after bag
of trash.
Rearranged nine pairs
of his leather shoes,
hockey slippers,
“new balance” sneakers
that I had tripped over
most of my married life
I dusted
lifting thick layers,
polished tear-stained
wood
to a lemon-oil sheen,
Windex-ed dull-gray
grime
from my reflection,
wiped the paint clean
where raging words
soiled silent walls,
mopped behind his “mule
chest”,
and vacuumed the carpet
fresh.
I pried open the
nailed-shut
windows and removed the
storm-
glass pane, replacing
shiny silver-screens -
April’s scented breezes
blew clean through their
bedroom.
IV.
When darkness fell,
again
he closed the blinds
tight; drew the drapes.
He mounted his bitch
like a dog
entering from behind.
First appeared as “Wedlock.” Poetry
Ink. Philadelphia: Moonstone, Inc. 2008. 17. Print.
Diane
Sahms-Guarnieri, a native Philadelphian, whose first full-length collection of poetry, Images
of Being, (StoneGarden.net
publishing) was released October 2011. Recipient of the AEV
Grant for Poetry in 2013. Currently Poet in Residence at Ryerss Museum and
Library. She can be found at http://www.dianesahms-
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