Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.

Ready or Not

I thought I was ready, bread rising above
The bowl ready,
Like
Christmas-for-a-five-year-old ready.
Like I’m too young to be a widow ready.
 
I didn’t know cell phones and secrets
And laptops and lying, or dating.com.
Couldn’t imagine hunter and prey.
Stop right here. Just picture my
Innocence.
 
I wrote my description and then I got
mail. I was fresh paint,
not yet dry. He said I was
beautiful,
That I was The One.
 
I shook when I slipped on
My little black
Dress.
After dinner, I shook when he
Took it off.
 
His hands broke the rules,
molded my legs and my breasts
and my belly. Pulled my hair. I fit into his
schedule
three times a week
 
I thought I was ready.
but I was a fool.
I was only a
notch
on a row.
 
Nothing is worse than the death
of a husband.
Nothing, I thought.
Still there’s pain in discovering
betrayal.
 
The lover who said I was The One
didn’t die, he just lied; he was
hunting
another. The eyes of my friend
were at the next table.
 
How long did it take to get over him?
I’ll let you know. The edge is
precarious.
I’m tired of the effort
it takes to hang on.

 
 
Kavanaugh

 

Kavanaugh lives in Chicago, IL and St. Pete, Florida, and is the author of fiction, non-fiction, and poetry. She is a member of the Off Campus Writers Workshop in Winnetka, Illinois. When she’s not writing, she’s at the movies or walking a beach. She usually eats lunch while standing at the sink. You can find out more about her at Kavanaugh Writes.

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Categories: Online Lover, Poetry, Themed

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