Exquisite Corpse - Issue 4
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The Three Wives and I
by Janet Mason
the three wives and I
sit on the deck eating breakfast
after a night of much teasing
and no action--
in the morning I crawled into bed
with two of them,
laughing as we scratched each other's backs,
naked and safe--
this couple with which
I have often made three--
now we sit licking mango juice
from our fingertips
and drop perfect pearls of translucent
green grapes into our mouths--

the thin clarity of morning sun
has not yet begun to heat what will become the day--
and we are still sheltered from the blistering inferno
until a yellow jacket tumbles into a glass
of orange juice and sugar
put out just for the bees--

and I say, that's what happens when you
give yourself up to desire...it kills you...

as I say this I look at the third wife--
who has sought refuge in her friends' home
and sits silent and composed
around her shattered and mending heart--
and she looks back at me,
no, into me--
and though I have hidden them well
she sees the demons
peeking from the corner of my eye--

it is like this, life,
the fire raging below, even here
sitting with friends in the trembling blue air;
it scorches the blond planks of the deck
and burns in the soles of my feet--

as two of the wives sit transfixed,
watching with fascination
as the yellow jacket engorges itself toward death

and I am trapped in thoughts of drowning

and the third woman, this temporary wife,
calmly stands and with her fork
plucks the yellow jacket from its fate--

there is no reason at all, I think,
that she can do this while we sit paralyzed
watching as it staggers along the wooden rail toward freedom
.

Publications:

Email: JanetMason@aol.com

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