My uncle Eddie is the kind of man monogamy
was made for
You know, looking at him – he is where he wants to be
You see it in
the small sigh of relief when his wife
enters the room,
a breath you didn’t know he was holding in.
He fits into Aunty Ada’s body – his head in her neck‘s hollow,
his arms around her waist, just so –
like grooves drawn in her flesh
from constantly resting himself there.
and then there’s that languid smile he has, like he constantly
marvels at his good fortune.
yesterday I watched them at a birthday party, watched him pace
beside her like a two-step;
arms slung in each other, shoes clacking in sync
and secret grins, like children at an