WHILE TRYING TO TAN THE FINGER WHITENED BY A RING

For unfortunate reasons, divorce has been on my mind for a while now. I wrote this poem over ten years ago, well before I met my current wife...and suddenly I'm not only thinking about divorce, but manifestation.


WHILE TRYING TO TAN THE FINGER WHITENED BY A RING


Sixteen servant girls
were perched on the shore
using stones to scrub the laundry.

The silver river rushed beneath their rags,
the falling leaves collected in their hair
and the curious crayfish crawled around their toes.

Using wildflowers as a shield,
I approached them as shyly
as my status would allow.

Aroused by indiscretion,
I secretly pondered the possibility
of loving sixteen women all at once.