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.