BETRAYAL.

He’d gone long before I left the house
and swallowed my decoy story
like a spoonful of honey; didn’t have
a clue about its potential for bitterness.
I took a long hot shower and smoothed
my skin to silk. I washed my hair till it
shone and wore soft flowing fabric and perfume.
At the quay I bought bread and cheese and wine
and a white paper bag of Turkish delight.
On the ferry I nibbled my nails.
The sun shone like a blessing on the white path
I followed around the waters edge to the house
that bore the numbers you’d whispered.
What happened then is between you and me only
an afternoon that tangled up the strands of my life
into knots I can never untie.
Standing outside that house where the sky
blushed a deep crimson, I suddenly realized
how irrevocable an action is, how permanent.
You cannot unknow knowledge.
Emotionally disorientated, I watched the sun sink
into the water and did not move until
there was darkness enough to hide my shame.
Knowing I had to go, I went.
And where else could I go, but home
and back to him, bearing my guilt
with me, like a hunchback.
And he opened the door to me as if it were
just any other day, and asked after it –
as if it were just any other day, asked
with genuine interest – and I lied, I lied.