Bitch

Bitch…that’s what he called me
When last we saw each other
And maybe I deserved it
I said something ‘bout his mother
Why did he always admire her so?
He never seemed to please her
He was Norton to her Kramden
Marc Antony to her Caesar

And nothing I could ever do
Would ever quite suffice
To make my offer worth the cost
He could not afford the price
Of losing her or her respect
To have the likes of me
A less than perfect Catholic girl
To flaw their family tree

Maybe things worked out okay
We’ve gone our separate ways
I miss him some on lonely nights
And again on stress filled days
He knew and understood me
He helped me through tough times
Is it fair that he’s no more to me
Than fodder for my rhymes?

by maggie signaigo

Comments (1)

A very nice poem, Maggie. I like your work. I just happened to read your comment on one of my St. Louis poems, and thought I'd check out the work of another former St. Louisan.