It’s been a roundabout
romance.
Here she turns, all
misty-eyed, meets
Burning with fiery
circumstance.
Starlings stutter
stanzas; “Kerweet-ter-keats” -
Even the birds recall
the rascal’s name.
Her Other Man. Close
bosom-friend!
I too can play, I
know his game.
Sweet-talk granary-floor-pretend.
Then that Ulyanov
Affair.
Licked her loose lips
cochineal raw,
Painted the town
red. Bolshie, yeah.
Did Julian old-style
before
Taking Gregory’s
papal bull.
Body’s not what it
used to be,
Showing her
history. Hair full
Of pink ribbons these days. She
Says they’re for her
girlfriends.
October, you’re not
getting younger.
Could this be our last year together?
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