Arriving home


Her bed huge and curtained
reminded me of medieval furniture.
I pulled it back one day and found her engaged
with a man, their hips pressed hard,
their arms and legs entwined like something horrid that lives at the bottom of a great ocean
the looks on their faces, surprised, amazed, she looked one way, he another,
One hand clutching the top of his head
I should have known not to pull the curtain back
but I thought they were out
I noticed a moment later
their clothes spread about the floor, the sheets and blankets tossed about
a table knocked over in passion.
Did I think I would find a thief?
Too late to put the curtain back now
the moment happened and could not be changed.

This same thing,
but different,
happened to a friend of mine
he was the husband and
He came home from work
and found them, coupled, engaged, shunting.
He was hard muscled from his work in the steel industry
but lame and one leg shorter than the other.
She was the most beautiful of women
and the other,
the lover, no stranger
was a soldier.
In his rage, my friend tore a curtain from the window
and threw it across them like some net.
Catching them mid thrust.

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