II Jealousy

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‘Don’t be like me.’
She stares flat in my eyes.
‘I was hooked by jealousy.
It rips you up.’

It’s no surprise
she became a meal on a dish.
From the ocean of dreams she stretched
out her hand.
She emerged mother of three, housewife
non-working—
‘He’d never let me though my girlfriends did
but to him an insult.’
She couldn’t open the lid
of her rusting tin treasure box.

‘He locked and unlocked
my white heart’s treasury.
He gutted me like a fish.

‘I said, Well darl this has got to stop.
But it never did. I bled and bled.
With his knees in the sand, his serrated knife
he kept cutting me up.
Not much of a life.’

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