Carla Sarett: If I Were A Woman In A Novel

How I’d rage at my lost youth
(Until I recalled the bad sex.)
After my bitter marriage to Max or Henry
(Or both.)

I might swallow a flask of arsenic
Or fling myself under a train
After Max or Henry’s treachery, and
Not even a Hallmark card with a cat!

And oh, how long the days would seem
And longer still the nights!
Since I’d never read a mystery
(Or watch Netflix.)

How lucky I am
To be out of a novel,
To be cooking and cleaning.
Ah, such a relief, real life
Such a relief!