The Woman
You Don't Know Well Enough
Maybe her
mother died.
Maybe her
daughter
went away to
college.
Maybe her
lover has left her.
She has a
beautiful coat
from when
times were better.
When she wears
it,
you want to
turn
the lambswool collar
down, to kiss
her
neck. Feel her pulse
against your
lips. Fragile
and
quivering. Her eyes
open wet
between her
lashes
as if she
would cry.
No, as if
crying even now.
As if she had
just
washed
ashore.
If you could
hold her.
If she would
turn
her eyes to
you.
If the
beautiful coat
would
slip from her shoulders.
Eve Sutton