Second Chance

When you meet him, you won’t recognize him. He seems weak:
reflects, where you would have asserted your vaster power.
His wife talks, and he listens. Only when she’s done, he speaks.
And she is eager to hear him. What a strange feat, this man
who has managed to command the ear and willingness of a woman.
But he cries. And thus, you sneer. He is your salvation, but you can’t hear.
Won’t hear or relent. Your arms are bunched with muscle and complaint.
His are lean and smooth; they hold his dear in the dead of night
and hers encircle him in turn. You could kick his ass, and then go home
to the wife who never thanks you fully enough for all you’ve done,
who is never satisfied, never silent, who sags so it reminds you you’re
not young anymore and someday you will die. My dearest former
love, please meet the man you could have been, and could be still:
the one man who most needs you. The one man you could kill.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s