ONE BORN DEAD.

A MAN AND HIS WIFE.

Gus guessed she was in one of her moods by
The way she sat and the gesture of her

Hands and the look in her eyes and the cold
Silence that sat about her head like some

Halo in those old art paintings of saints
And so he puffed at his cigarette and

Pretended he didn’t know she was in
One of her black moods and began talking

About the horses and the one that came
In second when he put all his dough on

It and if he’d listened to Dukey he’d
Have come in with the winnings but no he

Had to do it his way and as he spoke
He could see her face crease up into the

Beginnings of weeping and her hands held
Onto each other like two fond lovers

Embracing and sitting back in his chair
Releasing a grey puff of smoke he said

Dukey sends his love and wants you to know
That if you weren’t already married to

Me he’d sweep you off your feet and take you
Off on his white charger but I wouldn’t

Trust him Honey for all the cold holy
Water in Rome but she said nothing just

Sat with tears in her eyes and her lower
Lip drooping and looking at the table

With the salt and pepper and coffeepot
And cups and saucers and inside her head

The image of the baby she lost the
 One she carried for nine months but born dead.