Never to the wife, the lover.
Always to the other,
the fish story you long to tell someday,
the low-hanging, forbidden fruit,
the reach that exceeds your grasp.
You can almost feel the pat on the head-
What a clever boy!-
as they read your lies and artifice.
More than once, the wife, the lover
intercepted them like a shocked defensive lineman,
spiking them, along with your heart, in the end zone.
You learned your lesson. More than once.
No more letters. No more Dear ___.
Only poems fired off into the atmosphere,
a signal flare, a fireworks finale
someone will surely see,
someone now with eyes like yours,
a magic decoder ring, and a taste
for mischief. It's only cheating
if you're the cheater. It's only a poem
if you're not.
Love Letters to Other Women by R.G. Evans | Poetry Fabric Box
$15.00Price
