The Second Woman Poem by RIC BASTASA

When I first met her, she was coy and meek
And too kind
I like her, and she likes me too,
And she was aging and needed comfort
For her waning days,
She brought along a younger woman
One with whom I can
Truly make love, and where we can be
That is her motive,
Productive.
She is happy and waits for the gift
A child to be frank
But God must have something against her
What she does what she is
There is no baby for her
There is no gift
From heaven

Her anger is super, and she plans to take
Away from me,
Feeling defrauded, she wants to
Take back everything: this house, this car, this
Chair, and slowly she carts away my parts: my hands
My heart, my arms, my toes, my chest, my head
And we struggle, I cannot allow this thievery, I must
Not allow this misery; I am taking every lost part back.
She must be stopped.
She says she owns the younger woman and she
Must be returned back
At once.
She takes her
And she will die.
She does not care.
She takes what she wants to.
She will be coming back to take what she owns.

She takes one step inside my door.
I have a gun and she is not superwoman.