CB (May 3,1962 / United States)

Mocking Grin

Seated at my Uncle's funeral fire
Are family close, all well attired
In the middle of them like a well fed hen
Is he who took aim, and recompense
A virgin's vow, a promise given.

My face burns as his chin mocks mine
Three lies told, only one is closed.
Husband bare, he stripped me-
Of the future promise given by another.
Leaving me to deal with the fruit within
Without bother from any other hand.
A father extracts a lie,
A promise, a plead of things that are not -
It doesn't matter, now, the blood cleanses all.

I sit up taller, holding a new husband's vow
In my closed palm-
Promises that never faltered.

He mocks me
His eyes dance with the secret he holds.
The virgin's lie is finally over.

by Charlotte Ballard

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.