[The twenty-second installment of the month-long poetry sequence that began on October 1st.]
"Mercy Me"
Dolores Kindermack
My Arnie's out there right now,
Out there with the rest of the Grantwood goon squad,
Determined to execute the town's October intruder.
Guess I shouldn't be surprised he rushed to join in, since
His sentences have started with "The monster..." all month long.
He's been so caught up in talking about that dumb beast's deeds
That I don't think he's even heard me wheezing.
Lying here bedridden, in our home of the past forty-three years,
I picture Arnie out there forgetting his normally mild manner
And battering the monster senseless with his tire iron.
I picture him delivering the eventual killing blow, and think
How I've begged, between coughs, for him to put the pillow over my face,
To beat this emphysema to the smothering punch.
But my pleas (pl-pluh-pluhease) only make his chin quiver,
Send the tears coursing through the aqueduct of his wrinkled cheeks.
Lord, what terrible, twisted times these must be,
When I've grown to hate my own husband for his undying love.
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