The Other Woman
.
Sometimes your old girlfriend wedges
her body between us in bed.
Though I want to push her away,
I feel sorrow coursing through
your torso. We met because she ceased
breathing. Who am I to resent the dead?
At night I hear you mumble in a language
only ghosts can decipher. Maybe you
are uttering loss to chiaroscuro shadows
in the graveyard. Darling, I want to fold
my arms around you but when I do,
her leaden limbs push me to the bed’s edge.
.
Maureen Sherbondy‘s forthcoming poetry book is The Body Remembers. Her work has been published in New York Quarterly, Stone Canoe, Calyx, and other journals. Maureen lives in Durham, NC. www.maureensherbondy.com
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