487 - Banished from the bedroom

Just a quick sonnet, sitting on the bed,
This single bed that’s meant for Josephine
In this pink girl’s bedroom, and yet, instead
Of her, it’s me who’s in it. Yes, I’ve been
Here for eleven nights in quarantine,
Away from the wife, who, with our daughter,
Has stayed in the main bedroom like a queen,
And I her servant, lamb to the slaughter.
I’ve been surprised how little I’ve fought her,
But then I’ve had to stay submissive, led
The way in compromise, conquered my spleen
To quell argument, just as she ought to
But doesn’t, just like my first wife. We’re wed,
But I can’t see it lasting. She’s too mean.
Fri 4 Jan 2008