The First Wife’s Tale

I am wiped out. They do not speak my name.
She has it all now – children, goods, the lot.
No contest; I am dead and have no claim.

She walks in – the surroundings are the same –
pours tea, snaps roses’ heads. And I shall rot.
I am wiped out and they don’t speak my name.

Routines go on; she drives my children home
from school and tucks the baby in his cot.
I won’t protest; I’m dead and have no claim.

She entertains his friends – the ones who came
before my time, smiles, savours all she𔃅s got.
I am wiped out. They do not speak my name.

You hear faint whispers, hints she has no shame,
but it no longer matters who did what,
considering I am dead, and have no claim.

The man we loved gets very little blame;
she did, but now she’s here, and I am not.
I am wiped out and they don’t speak my name,
seeing that I am dead, and have no claim.