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                            by H.F. Noyes

her arm in a sling
she gets the town forger
to sign her name

    her memoirs somehow write off
    the man she married

patio party –
even the pale blue sky
looks residential

    her guru counsels forbearance –
    it’s only life that palls

another wimp
scrounges up an issue
to be neutral on

    the soul  she argues
    has its place in the home

sonny in ‘shop’
drills another hole
to stick a ‘mast’ in

    tucking in her little ones
    that Freud pronounced ‘perverse’

unbalanced mother
keeps the teeter-totter
all to herself

    in never-never land
    ferris wheels don’t stop

spiral nebulae
in the telescopic sight –
longing to love

 next thing I know
 she has me in a hammerlock

he surrenders
to ‘the wave of woman’
barely making shore

 she goads him to strip off
 his Don Juan disguise

holiday inn –
with the breakfast buns
disharmony restored

 it’s her Piscean propensity
 for ‘splendid isolation’

one more woman
escapes from the dark –
a light unto herself

 holding something back
 for the golden years

- first published in Brussels Sprout, Vol. IX:2

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