The Mistress Poem by Sally A Mortemore

Somewhere unknown a nameless woman grieves.
Some place alone.
A faceless mourner.

Her telephone is silent it will not ring.
She has a number but should not call.
She knows the house but it's beyond her reach
no In Sympathy on her mantelpiece.

She grieves for another reality
but truth twice bites her heart.
Nothing can change her present
or their past.
This singular female.

She weeps but no one hears her.
She sleeps but no one's there to hold.
She does not eat no one to tell her
she stays inside her walls.

The telephone entreats.
Just once to hear his voice.
But time moves forward
it does not wait for death.

A woman's voice.
She asks for him.
Not there.
He died.
She knows.
She cries.
How strange.
my mother sighs
who was she?

I think but do not say.
I know but will not hurt her.
But inside I weep
for this lone woman's spirit.

You see we three share a bond.
She me and my mother.
Our singular grief
for the one man who left us.
We three
each somewhere
yet nowhere.
And no one there
to hold.

Sally A Mortemore 2012