Endgame by Mary McCarthy

The last time you took him back
I knew you were  gone
Like a woman disappearing
Into purdah
Eclipsed by the veil
Forever under the shadow
Binding her every word
Every glance, every slightest
Restless movement
That might call attention
And set her jealous guardian
On her
Savage as the wolf
That ravens on the lamb

Death is always in the cards
The final stamp of ownership
On an unresisting corpse

So you are lost
And I mourn
Though your funeral
Has not been announced
Nor the sum of all your dues
Come paid
You are stopped and sealed
And shut
Mute as the bones of any
Ancient undiscovered Queen
Whose mouth is full of dust
Whose name
Has been erased




Mary McCarthy studied art and literature, and has always been a writer, though she spent the greater part of her working life as a Registered Nurse. She has been a Pushcart nominee and has had work published in many print and online journals, including Earth’s Daughters, The Evening Street Review and Gnarled Oak. Lately she has enjoyed discovering the vibrant communities of poets and writers online.

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