Going To Confession - Poem by Lisa Rhodes
It is always the place I dread
Visiting when I am in between sins
Knowing I have not committed anything
Considerably terrible like having sex
With a married man who says he is separated.
But how does one really know if his wife
Lives in Pakistan? It is difficult being single
Meeting with all these divorced men with
Children, wondering how they perceive you
As the right one for them and wondering if
They will ever get married again when they complain
Their ex-wife got the house with the Jacuzzi and
Drives a Mercedes Benz with her new husband
And child. Do I sense a hint of jealously here? Or is this
Just a man burned from his own doing, divorced
His wife and is now paying his dues? I wonder how
Men get so hardened from women they used to love
Calling them whores in their sleep, meeting up with them
At Barmitvahs, summer camp, and high school graduations
Because they share the same kids. That sperm and egg
Fusion is the only good thing they claim that came out of
Their marriage. This keeps them still together, inseparable
Like twins battling for the rights to breathing space and yet
They are really a fixture, one needing the other: a faulty
Lineage binding them to another human being.
I thought there would be an end to going to confession after
The last one, after I made up my mind to break off with
A man I was seeing for over a year, knowing inside he was
Never going to marry me but still hanging on in spite of
The rotten sex. Fatigue and misery lay dormant in my gut.
When I knew I could not keep silent anymore when my mother
Pestered me to no end, I confessed. I had no idea where
The relationship was going so I cried and then
It was over. I knew in my mind that he knew something
Was wrong, something I could not hide yet I was aware
Of his same old faults: excessive flirting, his shortness,
Protruding abdomen and other middle age nuances that
Bothered me. In spite of our differences, I confess I knew he
Was not in love with me nor did he appreciate the little things
Like honor, class, virginity, Valentines Day and my independence.
I knew I could get better then him.
Really I was only testing the shallow waters; I confess
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