It was a cold night,
I was coming home,
And I didn't inform her,
As I wanted it to be a surprise.

War was over and I was going home,
The terrorists had been terminated.

I had stopover en route,
At a distant town I paused,
Famous for its winery,
I had got the finest ***,
For both me & my wife.

Obstructed en route by a blizzard,
I thought about my wife at home.

Waiting for the way to be cleared,
I slept because I felt so very tired.

A dream sequence started,
It was so bright and warm.

I was basking in the Sun,
My wife accompanied me.

Holding hands we're in the backyard,
Not a cloth shielded us from the Sun.

Composing poems we were,
Warm and hot ones as well.

I had said:
"Oh my honeybunch,
My buttercup,
I love you,
From the core,
Of my purest heart."

She had replied:
"Oh my sweetiepie,
My bigger baby,
I love you too,
From my heart,
And even my body."

But then the dream ended,
They had cleared the road.

The driver again started driving,
At a slow speed fit only for snails,
Still my rifle rattled inside the bad.

Now I reached my town,
I expected her in nightgown,
In the velvety green one she had.

Edging closer on foot to my home,
I observe incandescence in the hall,
Glimmering through the curtains,
I thought she was waiting for me,
Basking in the heat of the fireplace,
After a tiring day's work at the office,
She should have slept peacefully,
But here she was, I thought,
Waiting for her man to be back,
From the neighbouring state's capital.

With these positive thoughts on my mind,
I parried forwards in the snow,
And I thought I'd surprise her,
Telling that my work was done,
Earlier, much earlier than I had expected.

I produced my copy of the key,
And silently opened the door,
But then I heard some sounds.

Totally unexpected sounds,
Like the intimate ones in bed,
I wanted it to be some teleseries,
But then I noticed an overcoat,
And a pair of oversized boots,
Neither the overcoat belonged to me,
Nor the huge gumboots were mine.

It dawned upon me,
My wife had been cheating,
She was in the hall,
The indecent incandescence,
With the noises of it,
Filled the home after issuing,
From the main hall.

I immediately stepped back,
Closing the door silently behind me,
Then I went to the bus stop.

I entered the lodge nearby,
Took the bottle of *** out,
Drank it full slowly but surely,
Then I took the gun out,
Sank the *** in & pulled the trigger,
BANG!!!
The bullet dug under my chin,
It pierced me through my head,
Shattering the lamp overhead.

We’re hand in hand and walking, down where the Camden canal runs away from us
and breaks faintly in spires, under the floating patches of, olive tree, street lamps.
She shivers on her cigarette, smoke watching, a furnace strong and foreign,
like the ******* of the incense in Rome, tracing flaming *** trails.
The bird living in my ribcage beats it’s great and terrible wings
again, and has another. I have her cold elbow fit my palm.
The pigeons obliviously sleep to the draw
of that burning London moon.
The draw I feel moving me.
down into the world
that acts as a cellar
to the one we know.
So much colder
than the heat
is, in her
~