Wifey

Call this what you will, I just had an idea for a story and thought it would be cool to express it through poetry.

Wifey

My wife's a cheating know it all.
I've seen her fucking up a wall
with old guys, with wise guys,
with all the fucking bald guys.

She thinks I'm stupid (thick and dumb),
but I've known a while. If she should come
back home soon, Ill fight with her,
call the shots, lay down the law.

She's at the door.

I groom myself, suck some gum.
I let her in, we have some fun.
It didn't take long to strangle her
with her ancient soft fox fur.

I drag the corpse into the night;
drive around to calm my fright.
I find a place: an unwalked hill
I drag her to a pond her until

her phone rings three times.
I answer it. Its Miles.
The boyfriend, the loser
of the motherfucking chooser.

"Come round," I say, "at four o'clock"
(my voice is calm, trying not to mock).
"Sure sure sure, yes yes yes."
I'll make the sneak confess!

I chuck in wifey and watch her drown
then head right on back to town.
I tidy round the sexed-up house
Then wait for Miles. Ready to pounce.

A noise in the bathroom. It's got to be Miles
playing with lipstick, blusher and nail files.
I get my gun and kick down the door
No one's there, I search for more.


I approach the mirror and see myself:
The sneak is on the bathroom shelf
The moment dawns, I confess my wrongs
It was paranoia in my lover's thongs.

I cock the pistol in my hands.
Pull the trigger. Bang bang bang.
Shards of glass fall to the floor.
God – more knocking at the door!

It is my wife dressed in a lilac gown.
She isn't smiling, she wears a frown
of disappointment. I force a kiss onto her head.
Pull the trigger. Bang I'm----