—St Antoninus
Your consort writes
Not a day or night goes by
when I do not think of you
to another woman.
He says he was lying.
You say, Then
or now? That night
at last you meet
him—pale ocean
eyes, red-gold
hair—your hands
touch, smiles near . . .
He says, This is a good
problem to have
Being pure light
his radiance
like a jack-o-lantern
shines from within
even when you wake
weirdly happy
and alone again.
Listen to this poem:
Poem read by Barbara Ungar and recorded by Leanne Ungar.