dented by snubs, tarnished by sidelong glances
the trophy wife cradles holy water
inside her fault lines and ruptured silver,
then pours a smile to burnish bright my morn.
she spins a hurricane of welcomes
runs fingers through a garden of handclasps
even gracious to my sarcastic Ex,
red with the imprint of life’s open palm.
trophy wife I hoist you above my head
i’ve plucked you like a garland from a champ
experience makes other women wise
yet you suffer my gloating with aplomb.
I lean on a crutch of my younger self
ponder my twilight set upon your shelf.
Copyright 2015 by Boinkaz