After the Abortion
He’d given her an orchid
That swam on the mantel
In a cheap glass vase.
There was a framed nude
He’d done of her before
They got married
That hung where it watched
Him as he crossed the room.
She sat in a wicker chair
Reading a Rolling Stone,
Her beautiful face darker
Than the one he’d drawn.
There was a mark he’d left
Below her eye yesterday
With a fist
Instead of
A pencil.
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