Feeling like play, one day
he plastered the curtains
across her squared shoulders
and tacked the rug to her knees.
He bundled all the 'works of art'
prettier pictures as you never saw,
then rolled them up neatly,
where they could not be reached.
He slit her dress at elbow, wrist
and inserted fine-stemmed goblets-
rims up; one must not spill the wine,
while the clock, he balanced upon her head:
Something she said, that he never forgot;
if you're late, it's better to just be dead,
then recalled how the wedding invitations
strangely, had filled him with dread..
Patti Masterman
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/trial-separation/
