THE WIDOW LESTER

I was too old to be married,

but nobody told me.

I guess they didn’t care enough.

How it had hurt, though, catching bouquets

all those years!

Then I met Ivan, and kept him,

and never knew love.

How his feet stunk in the bed sheets!

I could have told him to wash,

but I wanted to hold that stink against him.

The day he dropped dead in the field,

I was watching.

I was hanging up sheets in the yard,

and I finished.