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Michael Graber
works as an editor/writer in his native Memphis, but moonlights as a reviewer, poet, teacher, lover, hater, father, poet,
counter-revolutionary, and song and dance man.
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The Faithful Wife
She's out pretending mardi-gras,
pretending she's single. Tight shirt
that cuts above the navel. All'll flirt
and gaze at her fertility curve in awe.
The bar shakes. Listen--the heartbreaks rise
louder than a country song. She sings
for spite, to bring home news of a fling,
tries out another's breath for size.
In the car my mother gave me,
my wife drives somewhere in secret,
hangs a painting on a bald man's door.
Through dark jeans, he feels for her knee.
As they test each other, swap spit,
her revenge is staged on a hardwood floor.
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Michael Graber
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This cowboy has a tear in his beer arright, singing a song about his
honky-tonk angel, and dirty dancing
double-cross on the barroom floor.
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