You'd Be Right

You'd Be Right


He often needed two women. Just one—
how unfair to expect from her so much!
Intelligence before and after sex,
a certain naughtiness during,
gifts of companionship and solitude.
But he liked the day-to-day of marriage
and its important unimportances,
quiet moments made livable
by the occasional promise of a fiesta.
And though he knew he wasn’t enough
for her either, and always assumed
she had similar thoughts, if not secrets,
nevertheless you may be thinking cad,

maybe even monster,…

…you who’ve been happy,
or differently unhappy,
or obeyed all your life
some good rule. And you’d be right
if you guessed his wife’s eventual coolness,
her turning away, and, when he didn’t leave,
the slow rise of the other woman’s
disappointment, which would turn to anger,
then to sadness.
You’d be right, but can you imagine
what joys accrue to the needy
over a lifetime of seeking love?
Can you say you’re not envious,
or that you’re sure
it wasn’t worth what he risked and lost?


Stephen Dunn

Posted over on The Monserrat Review