Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.

Ready or Not

I thought I was ready, bread rising above
The bowl ready,
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
Couldn’t imagine hunter and prey.
Stop right here. Just picture my
I wrote my description and then I got
mail. I was fresh paint,
not yet dry. He said I was
That I was The One.
I shook when I slipped on
My little black
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
three times a week
I thought I was ready.
but I was a fool.
I was only a
on a row.
Nothing is worse than the death
of a husband.
Nothing, I thought.
Still there’s pain in discovering
The lover who said I was The One
didn’t die, he just lied; he was
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
I’m tired of the effort
it takes to hang on.



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.

Categories: Online Lover, Poetry, Themed

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

1 reply


  1. World-class Writers’ Group Publishing Achievements | OCWW

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s