The Women
       

They're both Midwestern, awed by the gold
of Colorado sun. He never suspects

they meet, compare his gifts—none, thank God, alike—
praise his manners, always the gentleman,

taking the street side when they walk. The older one
is a better cook, better gardener. It's right

that she should live with him. They work this out
at the glass table, bare feet burrowed in the fur

of his beloved dog. My God! one thinks, I see,
how he fell in love with her. The poppies nod.

The glasses of iced tea begin to sweat.

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Copyright © 2016 Jane Hilberry All rights reserved
from Still the Animals Enter
Red Hen Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission