I wear his ring and cook his nightly dinner,
have done for fifteen years. He doesn’t hear me.
She’s younger, smarter, sexier and thinner.

How dare she play with him! He’s a beginner
at wicked little games like these, and clearly
I wear his ring and cook his nightly dinner.

I hope he thinks of me each time he’s in her,
so guilt-struck that he wonders if she’s really
much younger, smarter, sexier or thinner.

I hope God strikes her dead, the little sinner.
Then I’ll forgive him if he swears sincerely
to wear his ring and eat his humble dinner.

But there’s one way that I can prove the winner—
I’ll tell him what my lawyer figures yearly
for younger, smarter, sexier and thinner.

So now he’s back, expressing great chagrin. Her
phone no longer rings. I keep him near me.
I wear his ring and cook his favorite dinner.
I’m older, wiser. Who cares if she’s thinner?