Spinster
Your lonely years measured
By other people’s celebrations;
You always sat and smiled.
You had your callers,
The oil men, the plumbers,
Big family men
Who humored your weekly salon travesties
While you stifled chuckles
As they crouched and straightened,
Butt-winking through their clothes.
Later, the chuckles you checked echoed bitterly
When the microwave rang you for dinner
And you spotted phantom fingers lurking
On your counter-top,
And grieved for a sooty, rough hand to hold.
Now you sit at your window
Dunking a coffee-bag
Waiting...
Waiting for the Bible man,
Wondering...
Wondering what to wear
To your niece’s wedding;
Composing more lyrics
To your lonely lullaby.
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