She dressed for boredom
with the same care
as dinner with royalty.
Pretense requires
a touch of theater
when perpetuating a lie.
May and her husband
resided at the same address
but lived a world apart.
Their marriage had died
but their pride insisted
its obituary not be published.
So each Tuesday night
they dined as expected
on steak and wine at St. Charles Inn.
Sedate lighting hid their tension.
She made the usual attempts
at casual conversation.
Staring at red and feeling cold
he maintained the usual silence,
but smoked a more expensive cigar.
Hair in place, jewels shining
she placed her napkin on the table,
a signal Tuesday night's performance was over.
©Susie Clevenger 2012
Image: A Dinner Table at Night, 1884, John Singer Sargent
The Mag #129
The Mag #129
Comments
"So keep the pretense, hold the guard up
to those outside looking in
our lives are perfect,
we’ve got the act down once again."
To some, it's all about the show. Good capture, Susie!
but their pride insisted
its obituary not be published.
We've all seen this.
Nice write.
=)
I love the opening line... "She dressed for boredom."
I have been there and done that far too many times. I finally learned to say "NO" this year.
"Their marriage had died
but their pride insisted
its obituary not be published."
... & the first & final stanzas are positively brilliant, Susie