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Poetry Magnum Opus

The Way of Things


fdelano
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The Good Wife (Title change)

 

Cold air followed

the drunken man

into the kitchen

of the aging cottage.

 

Warm aromas filled

the room as the stew

simmered, awaiting

the man’s arrival.

 

The wife hurried

with her husband’s

bowl, ladling the meaty

treat, crusty bread ready.

 

He caught her arm

and jolted her left eye

with the back of his hand.

“Been loafing all day, hey?”

 

Tears ran as she continued

to fix his place at the table,

half her face already turning

purple with pain.

 

Fumbling, she burned her hand

as she tried to fill the bowl,

some liquid spilling to the floor.

She turned quickly at the footsteps.

 

A whack to her right temple

caused her to drop the bowl,

which splintered in the center

of the scattered food.

 

She calmly filled her

own bowl and set it

at her husband’s place,

pulling out his chair.

 

Laughing loudly, he said,

“There. Now your face

is balanced. Aren’t you gonna

cry and run off to bed?”

 

“No, I’ll just sit here

while you eat. Here’s

some more beer to wash

it down with. I’ll wait.

 

“Wait for what, another

bash?

 

“No, dear; you have to sleep

sometime.”

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Graphic stuff and as they say, what goes round comes around. You shouldn't mess with those who cook your food :smile: The last two lines conjured images of Cathy Bates in that Stephen King film Misery.

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When I jokingly told my wife I would give her a good whack, she looked me in the eye and said those last words. She was serious and holding a pair of scissors at the time. Chilling is very descriptive. Think Lorena Bobbitt.

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