Midnight Quatrains
If accidents mean kindly eyes,
does anyone dare to blame a wife,
for falls that bring her what she craves,
before return to him whose self-love is his life?
Saddled with an old wife,
bridled by her tongue,
he found he’d won the race to Hell,
when, unsmiling, he switched and married young.
A canker in a woman’s heart,
zealous from the womb,
furious for her sister’s rise
jealous of her now and to the tomb.
Put this together if you can,
untangle histories grown rank,
decide where can we can safely place our feet,
but first, look in the mirror and give thanks.