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Benoit

Woman lies in bed,
breathing,
not crying.
He lies opposite,
and they do not speak.

She sees his body
wrapped around a man,
many men.
He's always had these different lovers,
these men,
bulging biceps,
lightning veins,
thick, golden thighs.
He holds them so close,
the lines of their flesh blur
in the violent dance.
Chest to chest,
nipples touching,
he embraces those men,
stares into their eyes thoughtfully
before the fall.

He sees more men naked
in a week
than she will in her lifetime.

He handles them
with the love
of his life's work.
He never hurts them
intentionally.

She feels his hands
close around her throat.
She sees him in the ropes,
an inverted tree of woe.
She sees their son
lifeless beneath a pillow
stained with vomit and tears.
She sees the lights dim
in an empty auditorium
as the bell rings
on a dark match.


(c) 2007 Robert A. Geise

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