Image result for abstract painting husband and wife

My wife offends.

The police and courts cannot help;

Her offense is too small.

But love is spied by all.

A drop of rain which falls on my head

Feeds the industry of bad weather.

The models in their rain gear

Are beautiful and pleased.

At first, my wife teased

Me about the arrival of rain,

And when I lost my umbrella, she teased me again.

The leaking ceiling will drive us mad,

But the courts do not consider this bad.

Who said her love was innocent?

She was happy, but known to complain;

Offensive humor, sadness, rhetoric, argument, and pain,

The symbol which clouds over reason,

The rain that drips down the face of the old,

Above the muddy pit. Shakespeare had dreams

Of this. The weak can breed sympathy;

Weakness can breed resentment, too. The drip, drip, drip

Of doubt does not kill. My life doesn’t break. It bends.

I need to tell someone. My wife offends.

Her insult was too small

To hurt love. But love is surrounded by all.



1 Comment

  1. noochinator said,

    November 15, 2018 at 1:03 pm

    “Don’t sulk if [your wife’s] career has blazed on ahead of yours. Count your blessings, tidy up the house, and hope she likes what you’ve fixed for dinner.” —Bruce Jay Friedman

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