by Miki Byrne
She never slept easy with him. It was always
‘Is he safe? Has he left forever this time?”
She up all night with cold feet and a bitten lip.
Imagination would slice her nights to worried shreds.
Sleep was a taunting stranger.
He would never carry his address
and strode with the stature of anonymity.
Her concern was a nagging peck and home a lair
he slunk to when indulgences filled him to the brim.
She never slept easy with the scent of other women
upon him. No explanations and the hint of things she would
not like hanging like a strung corpse between them.
Silence grew. Fungus on the damp and dripping walls of her suspicion.
Harsher than the truth he would not give.
The truth she delved and longed for but never found.
Not till all between them was shattered.
Secrets peeled apart and opened.
Exposed like a grub in a shining red apple,
that justified all her guilty suppositions.
So, she never slept easy with him.
Miki Byrne is the author of Nice Bits & Hissy-fits. She reads her work at festivals, on TV and radio.
The Pygmy Giant 
#1 by Jennifer walmsley on September 21, 2010 - 9:49 am
I loved this. That eternal suspicion always haunting her. A great poem with a story of 2 people in a dysfunctional relationship.
Wonderful last stanza.
#2 by Teresa on September 21, 2010 - 10:08 am
This is so rich, especially on the second reading. The fungus growing along with the suspicion is lovely. ‘Lovely’ might not be the word. I liked this very much.