Acting

Being unwise enough to have married her

I never knew when she was not acting.

‘I love you’ she would say; I heard the audiences

Sigh. ‘I hate you’; I could never be sure

They were still there. She was lovely. I

Was only the looking-glass she made up in.

I husbanded the rippling meadow

Of her body. Their eyes grazed nightly upon it.

Alone now on the brittle platform

Of herself she is playing her last rôle.

It is perfect. Never in all her career

Was she so good. And yet the curtain

Has fallen. My charmer, come out from behind

It to take the applause. Look, I am clapping too.