The Poetry Widow

I told you when we met
I know the whole alphabet.

Yes, all 26, no
babe, we discussed this.

But, now you wanna
tell me

I should get someone
to spell me?

I can spell me just fine
and, to wit,

I can spell you, too
if it comes down to it.

Yes, I know, I know,
I understand she’s upset,

but, wait right there
boys, and let me

show you this:

“Your eyes have borrowed
the color of leaves,

my heart’s in my throat
my head in the eaves.

I told you that April
each word was a hound

brought back
from Tennessee

to help track you down.
Now, I know you suffer

my passion in fits
but, I love you more

than T. S. Eliot.”

So, you see, in the end,
I talked her down,

poetry won out,
which I took

as cold comfort
while I slept

on the couch.

–August 27, 2017