A Wife's Sonnet
I was in the bathroom when I heard them
trading lust secrets about my husband.
Chastened, I listened, hid inside my den
to their fantasy: how they wished to bend
his ear about his so successful life,
whilst licking a lip and sipping a drink;
no concern for his invisible wife,
my ring circling the porcelain sink.
I imagined his choice between the two
as though they were items in that toilet:
soap or hand gel, to dry or leave wet; loo
seat up or left down, comb hair or as set.
Back at the table, with him and my meal,
I wondered would I mind letting them steal?
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