It’s true that she was lusty, outlandish and gregarious,
with her behavior more or less branded as nefarious.
Her dance in life was often described as arabesque,
and when it came to marriages, her tale was Kafkaesque.
She mixed up her chronology, forgetting which came first.
Divorce or remarriage? She knew not which was worst:
bigamy or loneliness. She simply couldn’t stand
to be without a husband readily at hand.
She often stood with tearful eyes before a judge’s desk—
seemingly an angel, albeit, picaresque.
Somehow when it came to love, right and wrong conflated.
True love made her dizzy. She wound up addlepated.
A comely wrinkling of her brows, a pout, a tear, a sigh
and the judge forgave her. After all, he was a guy.
A simple tiny slap upon her unrepentant wrist
and a heartfelt promise that she would desist
from practicing plural marriage was always the decree—
guaranteeing her misdeeds in perpetuity.
So went her personal history. It seems that she was fated
to spend all her romantic life being inundated
with husband after husband—one or two at a time—
for courtships left her weak-kneed and weddings were sublime.
Honeymoons her speciality, she found no fault with life
until it came to living it as just one man’s wife!