I would’ve liked
to live with one
before
I turned complete.
That one I
could have desired
like a
prohibited
sweet.
Wonder now how
I would’ve
bellyed
his child.
Romanced
enough
to believe
I could brave
that Ypres,
that Verdun.
Husband.
Balm for the occasional
itch. But I’m witch now.
Wife makes me wince.
My seamed tongue,
my eye blistered,
raise stink. And love
needs a smudged wink,
I think.