They are ideal for each other:
She is weepy and dependent.
He is funny but strong.
He treats her
To film noir –
Flick dark and sexy like my father,
With women whisky-voiced and blonde—
Like your mother.
Your dead mother gets scared
When the movie bullets fly.
My dead father eases his arm
Across her trembling shoulder
And pulls her close to him.
My dead mother never cared for
His public displays of affection,
But yours adores them.
Iris N. Schwartz is a fiction writer, as well as a Pushcart-Prize-nominated poet. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming from such journals as Bindweed Magazine, The Flash Fiction Press, The Gambler, Gravel, Gyroscope Review, Jellyfish Review, Pure Slush (Volume 12), Silver Birch Press, and Siren.
I really like the danger implied in this. Thank youR
LikeLike
I like your idea.
I enjoy your working of it into this poem.
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pingback: Early Neil Young | random sample