In the letter to his wife

he wrote only three words

but he was far to late

Up in the gallery 

where he watched the trial run

he saw her face collapse

though he was peering as he should

he felt guilt for what he had seen 

for she was no mans’s wife

and not his to laugh at

but around him cackles encased the room

heckling volunteers threw stones

in the she shape of words

callousing her prim face

whore

but Men you see 

are an odd subject

for had she lain in  any of their beds

the would cower in utter silence

But every man up in the gallery

is guiltily free

for their crimes behind closed doors

have not been caught

so they terrorize 

with senseless pride 

the beautiful woman 

who is not their own whore

Every man but one

for before him

is his lover

so he doesn’t heckle

nor laugh 

nor say a word at all for he knows that he too

should be sitting with her

In the letter to his wife

he wrote only three words

I love you

but he was far too late

For his wife

in their home

had found a bundle of letters

not addressed to her.

but a addressed to a woman

with a newly bound fate

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love is such an odd subject, isn’t it. Sometimes we are bound to people who are trailing behind others. How upsetting. In fact I am sure that I based this poem off some odd dream that i had that involved Ben Affleck in the film Gone Girl. I also drew inspiration from the scene of To Kill a Mockingbird where they watch Atticus from the balcony. The whole idea of the poem I wrote is this otherworldly figure who is able to be in two places at once. Who sees the woman who breaks as she learns of her husbands faults and the husband who miles away breaks with guilt as his lover, is acquitted for love. He watches from the gallery, like an onlooker, just  as the narrator of the poem watches him and his wife.