Two Suitors
The boy was slight and poor, and its true the gaslight
ran like oil down his black curls.
His knees scraped the paving stones
while he went in search of the missing pin.
Every time she smelled cigarettes
she wanted to go inside with him for a drink.
She needed a new blouse because of the smell.
If he were only half as beautiful in the light of day, she thought.
This other one was only feeding almond leaves into a candle,
grinning with his one gold tooth flashing,
all his vest buttons ready to pop
and a snow of dandruff settling on the tabletop.
A lacquered wagon drawn by an ass
in blinders, with harness bells jingling (item one).
That wasnt going to cut it, her uncles said,
no matter how many cups were poured.
My father the café-owners cat lashed out
and made a thin line of blood on his nose.
If you had seen him roar!
Or that eruption of coins drizzling onto the flagstones.
Later she surprised us all with her decision.
Fancy or no fancy, declared she,
feathers are one thing and straw another:
the life he offers is better than roast pigeon every night.
Randy Gentry
Barnwood poetry magazine