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Poetry Magnum Opus

The Neglected Wife


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When I think of the many years

we’ve been married, each one

witheringly worse than the last,

I rather enjoy your catatonic state;

I push you along in a wheelchair,

and I revel in your piglet squeals

as I pretend to run you under a bus.

The driver looks shocked, but I smile

and wave. Many of them are Sikhs.


When I finally get you home to the flat

I deposit you in the creaking lift

and push the buttons for a hour or two,

letting you bob up and down in a fury:

when somebody comes along

I wring my hands and say,

“I’m so sorry, it’s my ailing husband,

“I fear he grows worse all the time,”

both gazing sadly at your vein-popping face.


Upstairs, I dish out your dogfood

and a saucer of lukewarm water,

then I knock back the first and best

of three gins and tonic, turn on the TV,

and leave you to shit yourself.

Home Care come in the morning.

You don’t know, you don’t know

what you put me through. But,

I’ll show you before they lock me away!

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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Holy crap! Stark as real life.

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Have you been reading my mail????


I can relate to this on pretty deep level and caring for someone who cannot care for themselves does things to a person. Although I feel fairly safe in saying I would not go to these extremes. Great piece, actually makes me feel better to know I'm not the only one with startling thoughts.

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Lovely black humour. Reminds me of a Roald Dahl Tale of the Unexpected, where a scientist's repressed wife, ended up with her deceased husbands live brain and right eye, preserved in an experimental box. She took immense satisfaction from parading all that he despised in front of the eye to make a life support monitor, registering his brainwaves.. go berserk. :biggrin:

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I was thinking it was out of The Night Gallery. Chilling.

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  • 4 weeks later...

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