Not unmarried, no, just a little dis–
You smile–connected. Oh? Your eyes meet hers,
Dip, then slip away, down cheek and blouse, scared
To see what they might say. How to explain this?
Last night the sheets like a glacier lay
Between me and the one who shares my bed.
Her eyes have fixed on you, you feel the glare
And daren’t look back. Not yet. It was too late
To set out, to risk another rebuff.
The sun’s last rays still reached–What can she think?–
The high, forbidding peaks and in the folds below
The night turned blue. Should you raise your eyes up?
You do. She laughs. She hasn’t heard a thing.
She toys with her wine, and then toys with you.
(from Literary Review of Canada, Jan/Feb 2017)