Thank you for your letter of condolences
about my eldest sister and my poor second junior
brother-in-law. Their bodies were interred
at the quarter moon, according to custom.
Poor Eldest Sister! We had planned to go
wine-tasting in the Lakes Province in Spring.
I will feel the lack of her when the snows clear!
But, my friend, may we all die as she did -
slain by a virile senior husband
at the height of our beauty! It is decorous,
and quite preferable to slowly falling
into senility while our junior husbands,
who once looked on us with admiration
and desire, wipe our toothless mouths
with pity leaning toward disgust. Our senior
husbands - they are our constant danger
in our youth, and our deliverers in middle age.
As for my poor senior brother-in-law -
I hear that they will hang him. I would go
to the capital and argue for commutation
to exile, except that he killed her children.
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5 comments:
New favorite poem of the blog, displacing the spider vs. cockroach.
this comment feels lame coming after that poem
Hooray, a comment!
I and at least two others are slightly afraid to comment on your poems because of the shabbiness of any possible word configuration after them. Especially these.
At least one other person told me this over pie.
Why don't you just come home and give me a blow job, Thi?
See, that's why you don't get more comments. Mouthy McMouthster over here. Cheerist.
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