
I must admit that,
at the end of the movie,
my eyes moistened
behind my glasses.
I didn’t want my wife to see.
So I surreptitiously
made out to scratch my chin
while, at the same time,
nudged my fingers a little higher
so that they wiped away
as much of the tears as they could.
I risked a glimpse in her direction
and figured her eyes must
have been watching a different film
because they were as dry
as the Kalahari.
She said she saw the film
as manipulative.
But, then again, I love poetry.
I appreciate a good manipulation.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. Latest books, “Leaves On Pages” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Ellipsis, Blueline and International Poetry Review.
