Tuesday, 1 February 2011

Trophy Wife

Laura asked if I'd mind if she pickled my hand when I die.  Of course not.

Trophy Wife

She keeps the
jar inside
his study
just below
c'tificates
proudly screwed
to the wall.

It makes it
onto the
mantlepiece
only on
most special
occasions
when guests stare,
resist the
urge to gag,
words stop and
refuse to
arrange them
selves into
sentences.

They never
understand
but it's so
important
for her own
sanity
that they see.

That she shares.

Her husband's
pickled hand.

The rest of
him, she keeps
for herself.

***

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