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.