Tag Archives: husbands and wives

Alibi

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Alibi

There’s an untrue rumor that I can’t dispel
about a certain ruby ring found within my cell.
They’ve just heard from my lawyer, but haven’t heard from me
about why that ruby ring was not beneath the tree
with my lawyer’s wife’s name on it, for she’d seen the receipt
in his bottom desk drawer and, thrilled with the deceit,

thought, “It is a gift for me. I’d better feign surprise.”
But in fact she had no need at all for this disguise,
for there was no tiny box with her name upon it—
no ruby ring within it, waiting for her to don it.
Instead, a brand new blender turned out to be her present,
and can you guess that her reaction wasn’t very pleasant?

Just where was the ruby ring? Her angst knew no restraint
as former suspicions resumed with no constraint.
His frolics with his secretary he’d declared long over.
Was he lying to her? Was he still a rover?
Her honeyed voice escaped her. Her shrieks grew shrill and scary.
How could her husband leave her arms to screw his secretary?

That’s how one more deception about the jewel missing
ended with me out on bail and my lawyer kissing
his wife for once, declaring how he preferred her culture
to any lowly secretary, then went on, the vulture,
saying how I stole the ring right out of his pocket
before he left my jail cell and heard the jailer lock it.

Now he said he’d go and if the warden didn’t mind it,
he’d do a search through all my cell to see if he could find it.
Then quickly, he reclaimed the ring to slip upon a ledge
underneath my mattress, at the very edge.
The fingers of his mistress and his wife were the same  size,
and so his wife was placated as she slipped on her prize.

And the diamond ring that he bought his secretary
after he took her ruby back was indeed so very
much bigger and expensive that she didn’t mind
exchanging her first Christmas rock for a better kind.
And rudely roused and blamed, fresh from my Christmas nap,
I had no objection, charged with another rap.

For my lawyer paid my bail and also said that he’s
defending me pro bono—foregoing any fees!!!

 

Prompt words today are just, dispel, frolic, constraint, culture and ruby.

Who Am I?

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Who Am I?

Am I an expensive ornament
you wear on your arm,
ignoring its effect
on those who stare
and envy you your bling?

Or an appendage—
another arm to fetch and carry
your son and daughter—
all those leftover 
parts of you?

Or am I the wallpaper
dressing up the walls around you—
called the culprit by those
who do not know you are the one
who builds the walls?

Prompt words today are wallpaper,  appendage, ignore, culprit and expensive. All images from Unsplash.

Fist

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Fist

It was that night, as they lay choking in the stench of jasmine,
that he unmasked his rage. Their whole life, it seemed,
was a cipher that obscured his former truths.
Now he seemed socked in by this sudden swirling fog of memories
that suddenly parted, giving him access to his rage.
It was his mother, not her, he said later, that he had struck out at,
but in trying to confront his past,
he had obliterated any hope for their future.

Prompts for the day are unmask, rage, jasmine, cypher and sock.

Love Song of a Pessimistic Spouse

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Photo by Andrii Leonov on Unsplash, used with permission.

Love Song of a Pessimistic Spouse

Look before you leap. Run with scissors pointed down.
Stay away from drafts, dear, when in your dressing gown.

Careful on the the stairs, don’t hasten your descent.
Don’t turn on the gas without opening the vent.

Put alcohol on cuts and scrapes, mercurochrome on splinters.
Drive slowly during rainstorms and use chains during winters.

Death is always lurking and I fear that you are jaded
thinking life’s perpetual when in fact it’s dated.

There are way too many dangers to sweep us from our feet,
so always look both ways when you cross a busy street.

Remember, dear, you’re not alone. Your “I” turned into “we”
the day that we were married for perpetuity.

Life is a roulette wheel. Take care not to spin it.
Life wouldn’t be much fun, dear, if you were not in it.

 

Prompt words for today are splinter, jaded, death, descent and look.

Guilty as Charged

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Guilty As Charged

Yes, I’m guilty of all charges. I fear I must confess.
It’s true I bought a purse and shoes, then bought the matching dress.
What credit card I charged them on, I can only guess,
but I know what I have spent. Sort of. More or less.
It does no good haranguing me. It does not help to press,
asking if I’ve found the bills, hoping I’ll say yes.

You’re making me feel guilty. Inflicting much duress.
Would it make you happier if I went fashionless?
It’s not like I bought golf clubs, a sports car or a yacht.
Just these paltry fashions are all that I have got.
Yes, the dress is Vera Wang. The shoes are Jimmy Choo.
The diamond bangles matched so well, I really needed two.

When the clerk at Tiffany’s asked what he should do,
charge them on my credit card or just charge them to you,
I asked to see your charge account, and, dear, it was a shock
to see the balance on it. That must have been some rock
you purchased just last fortnight. Might I suggest cash-and-carry
the next time that you buy a gift for your secretary?

 

The WordPress prompt today is guilty.

Built-in Guilt-in

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Decaying Farmhouse in Missouri Soybean Field

hyperbolic photo by okcforgottenman–thanks!!!

Built-in Guilt-in

With leaking roof and floors atilt,
She hates the house her husband built.
Yet her affection rose above it.
Her reaction? Dear, I love it!!!

Now every time she goes to doze,
doors creak open and then close.
Trips to the bathroom make her seasick–
the perfect place for her to be sick!

She’d like to say, if she were able,
she fears the wall joists are unstable;
for every time she leans on them,
the pictures tilt and lights all dim.

In autumn, shingles fall like leaves.
She hates how the foundation heaves.
As walls close in and ceilings shift,
She rues her husband’s every thrift.

Their marriage is a thing of bliss.
She still swoons to his deep kiss.
He is a lover kind and true.
He rubs her feet when she is blue.

She loves him still with all her heart.
They’ll be together ‘til death do part.
She only hopes that his construction
is not the means to their destruction!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/the-guilt-that-haunts-me/

An Unquiet Home

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An Unquiet Home

The confrontation mounts in stages:
her angry words, his silent rages,
until the kids have all been supped,
put to bed and been tucked-up.

Then behind their bedroom door,
he and she begin their roar:
“You always . . . ” are her words of choice
erupting in her blaming voice.

She’s splitting hairs, he contradicts.
It’s not as bad as she depicts.
The few times that he deigned to stray,
no matter what she now might say,

were exceptions to his usual rule.
He’s keeping track.  He is no fool.
It’s hard to get it up these days.
and so sometimes perhaps he sprays

where he shouldn’t. He’s sorry  for it.
Why is it that she can’t ignore it?
But still her words she must repeat:
“Why can’t you simply raise the seat?”

She shakes her head.  He starts to cringe.
He’ll get the can and oil the hinge.
It will be easy to raise the seat.
He’ll keep it dry.  Pristine and neat.

And so he does upon the morrow
find the solution to her sorrow.
He puts the seat up silently
before he deigns to take a pee.

But lest you think the battle’s done,
in truth I fear it’s just begun.
Later, when she takes her turn
she emerges with a look most stern.

His hands go up in consternation.
Now what’s the cause for her oration?
More shouted words.  More angry frown.
Why can’t he put the loo seat down?????

The Prompt: A House Divided–Pick a divisive issue. Write a two-part post in which you approach the topic from both sides.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/a-house-divided/