PRIVATE LOTTERY BESIDE THE POOL

As the second hand curves
towards midnight,
minutes of murder tick off,
aiming me at you.

My hand paralysed
or it would push you into the deep end
beside the bouncing board
that promises some trampoline out,

beside swirling water that reminds me
bickering turned our blood
black with sluggish days and chilled nights
and years became gritted teeth.

A little push could send you
so far away I would never see you again.
Your hands flaring upwards for mine,
then muffled underwater screams.

Your chocolate dinner waistline
might bring you to the surface.
Id have to feed you something heavy,
cement meatballs and pound cake.

Then basking in freedom,
a million claimed bills would float to me
on the tranquil turquoise glow.
My interest in you, finally paying off.

Your promise of protecting me
dies at midnight. Lucky for you,
life insurance settlements
can't return lost years.


Grace Ezequiel

Relationship and Marriage Poems

Women Poets

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