Adulteress
The crescent mirror over the bed
reflects the light of its sister
through parted curtains and
in a flash of luminescence
slices the sleeper
in two.
Guillotined and guilty,
still writhing and riding
a memory of her lover,
she is slaughtered.
Stains seep silently,
soak the marital altar.
Secrets are secreted,
all - consuming crimson.
She weeps a solitary tear,
not of shame but sorrow,
for those who choose
to stone instead of love.
Her soft soul, yet raw,
resurrects to a new dawn.
I wrote this poem some time ago. There are several variations, even one in a crescent moon shape which my writing group wanted but which I dislike. I still haven't decided on a final version.
Having recently watched Jeremy Paxman's BBC series on The Victorians I was introduced to the art of the period The painting is by George Frederic Watts Found Drowned (c.1849-50)
