The Adulterer

          A vow—a solemn promise of love and fidelity;

A simple verbal exchange between two bequeathed souls;

A simple statement yet, an unequivocal pledge from the 

               Hearts of some for whom this bell tolls.

Undaunted by a pledge of fidelity is the wayward and

Contemptuous gaze. The man behind the mask is my

Husband, a state of bliss his countenance is no longer

Reflective of  but, instead are: reflective images marred

                  By distant thoughts that run amiss.

Your acts of adultery have not been perceived, detected or

Discovered through any act of shrewdness on my part.

The trace of suggestion has caused me to sense her

Presence and, your reprehensible acts now tug away at

                                 My gullible heart.

It is 2:00 in the morning and, your body with its breathtaking

         And  Indelible symmetry doth not lie next to mine.

It lies bare and undraped in a bed that reeks of jasmine and,

Unbridled sex. It lies next to hers, as you pose the question

                             As if to a living shrine:

              “Do you want to be naughty tonight?”

 You do not wait for a reply, instead, you leave her bed

                   And now—while on your knees

Before her—you speak of things that have never caused

Your lips to part: your love for her beneath the cloak of

                           Moonlit Wiliwili trees.

Breathlessly you tell her, “I shall use my lips to give you

Pleasure tonight, unless you bestow upon me another

                                       Suggestion.”

          She smiles and asks, “Am I not worthy of

            Your mouth, your lips and your tongue?”

 “Yes, my love,” you respond, while also engaging in 

Meditation over the rudimentary truths of such a question.

The darkness of the night surrendered to its replacement,

And as I slept beneath the cloak of twilight it was then that

You entered our bed and brought with you the scent of her—

The smell of her settling in between us for the night—and

               I am consumed with utter dread.

While lying in bed with me—that is, you, my darling,

The one who has pledged undying love and faithfulness

To only me—you turn your back; your mind occupied by

Thoughts of her, with dream-like Interludes reflective of idle

          Fancy and sex beside turbulent waters

                      With swells of a rising sea.

Copyright 2008 by Wanda S. Miller-Berry. All rights reserved.

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