Nothing: About Rose, Mary {Poem}
Written by Bennie Castle
A wife named Mary had had enough of her Husband named Henry, and all of his rubbish.
‘Oh nothing,’ in a mockingly tone!
Every first and last Thursday of the month October,
he’d show up from work around 1 at night,
when it ought to be dim with bits of sunlight, approximately by 5 at noon.
She suspected him a cheat,
a drunkard, or worse…
Laughing again to scorn his ‘nothing’
because something it must be!
That same Halloween of ‘63,
the 20th century, AD.
she figured out where he’d been.
Outside an abandoned home made of brick,
his truck from work since he was a mailman,
and a rusty SUV.
‘Now I’ve got you, Henry!
Come out or else I’ll march right in!
And in marched Mary,
madder than mad,
because she had had enough that night.
Rough was the home inside, all dreary.
Must’nt be occupied, she thought.
Fear brought on by superstition,
but suspicion,
could she be wrong?!
From the second floor, somewhere,
she heard Henry speak while a woman sung!
‘Get out Henry or I’ll drag her into the living room!’
Giving boom to the stairs as she inclined in haste.
Then in tears, she wished it were nothing,
truly…
They’d spent over some decades together,
almost three in change.
So it seemed strange and quite odd to his wife named Mary,
because any other night they’re kin to
storks and flight,
or forks and knifes inside kitchen pantries.
Henry was lucky she had not one handy,
because the other woman’s voice sang louder…
And Mary followed suit, imitating her hoots,
Then through the door were it came from.
Henry turned about, shouting ‘Mary, it’s nothing…:
And a flying night gown fell to the ground.
Mary collapsed as well
with a tremendous sound to the wooden floor.
‘No More, Rose, she is the living wife…
The one I always mention!
I swear, my intentions weren’t to harm her or you Rose.
But your charm, is like a ghostly siren’s.
Weak, and tired Mary had whispered,
‘Oh Good the living Wife! Henry, is it me or her now?’
Had she fallen any harder against her head, then dreaded Henry would have had two.
But back to their home,
and away from that place
completely unknown to Mary.
Until she grew wearie, unconscious with fright..
Later that night she woke and hollered,
‘HENNRRY!
The ghostly woman!
The one in the red colored night gown!
Two dead wives were close to be yours.’
He laughed her to scorn,
‘oh of course, sweetheart,
you were dreaming.
Truly, it’s nothing…’
