First Wife
I never asked you to dance
in the moonlight
by the pool of St. Martins statue.
I never saw you
sweep your hands
over the plains lovegrass
of a dewy field,
making them bend with you
and against you.
I never asked
what was your
dancer’s name.
You were a dancer
a lifetime ago,
before the babies
came, grew
and were gone.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
