Sestina for Zoe

For those of you who are not over-educated skanks (no disrespect intended) you might want to click here to see exactly what a sestina is.    I’ll wait.

Do you understand how it’s supposed to work? Don’t feel bad. I didn’t either. Try this description . Trust me, you’ll enjoy this more if you sort of understand what you’re reading. Why, you might ask didn’t I get this published before posting it here? Well, I did try. The thing is it’s to sexual for mainstream publications and not sexy enough for erotica publications. And I’m darn proud of it, so here it is.

btw…Zoe is NOT a necrophile. 

 

Sestina for Zoe

 

She sits naked on the edge of the tub filled with her step-kids’ toys,

The cologne in the water filling the room with his scent.

They’d promised till death do us part and now she’s no longer his wife,

But his widow and her life beyond this day impossible to picture.

So many unfulfilled hopes and dreams, so many regrets.

The steam soothes her tear-stained eyes with dampness.

 

She eases into the hot bath, picks up the rye and ginger. The dampness

Trickles down the glass. His drink. His music, but she regrets

The choice. She can’t stand Tom Waits and throws bath toys

At the player until it stops. On the wall is a picture

From their honeymoon. They’re so in love, this man and his wife.

She pauses before finishing the drink to savour its scent.

 

In the kitchen the white roses have wilted and lost their scent.

She stares at them, nonplussed. Fresh from the bath, she shivers from the dampness.

The funeral arrangements were hijacked by his mother and his first wife.

“Think of the children,” they wailed. At the parlour entrance was a wedding picture.

That wedding and those children are not hers. Tomorrow they’ll pick up their toys.

She’s left with only his name and this house. More regrets.

 

Their happiness was a gift, she tells herself. No more regrets.

It was she who brought the white roses that hid the scent

Of death. She was with him at the end, holding his hand, wiping the dampness

From his brow. After he was gone she was the wife

They asked for permission to harvest his organs. She likes to picture

The doctor’s shock if she’d insisted on keeping his cock for a sex toy.

 

It’s her first night alone in this bed. She brings out her favourite toys

And reminisces about their last time here. She allows herself to regret

Being so casual about their final night together as husband and wife.

Her hands explore her body. She buries her face in his pillow, trying to capture his scent.

Her first widowed orgasm comes jagged and raw and leaves her face damp

With tears. As the shaking stops, she sees in her mind’s eye a picture.

 

It’s their honeymoon and they’ve just made love. She sees the picture

Taken from above their bed. He’s spooning her. His hand cups her breast, his damp

Cock nestled between the cheeks of her ass like a cherished toy.

An ocean breeze mixes with their lovemaking and fills the room with the scent

Of life. This vision will be her talisman, banishing all regrets.

She finds comfort knowing she was his last wife.

 

She thinks perhaps she’ll paint that picture and title it “Husband and Wife”.

She remembers their combined scent as she inhales deeply from the still damp

Toy. She’s stronger now, ready to face tomorrow without regret.