Tag Archives: Linda Woolven


by Linda Woolven

She ignores the 2 glasses in the sink
washing them with all the others.

Ignores the lingering scent in the air:
condoms and perfume.

Her husband had a lunch date
with a co-worker.

She was at the office
taking her lunch to pay the bills
to keep the heat on for them.

She ignores his morning clothes
In the hamper,
freshly changed for evening,
the bulge of his cell phone
vibrating in his pocket,
his reddened eyes
watching his e-mail for her.

She does what she has to,
She does what she needs to.

As she folds his underwear,
she realizes
she still loves him,
she still needs him

She does what she has to
she does what she needs to.

Ignores the little
and not so little signs
in her life.

She pretends,
to herself
to the man she married 20 years ago.

She smiles as she makes his dinner,
pours the wine,
sets the table,
lays the lies for the night.

Folds back the sheets
like an envelope
that can keep
his secret sealed in.

She does what she needs to
she does what she has to.


Fruition of Man

by Linda Woolven

The cites are jagged
with their skyscrapers
that break the air
into little unusable bits.

Their cellophane windows,
and the unbreathable air,
and tightly sealing
you in your office space.

Outside it is winter, it is 22C,
tulips are pushing up the snow,
blacken, like a living rot,
as night descends quickly on the horizon.

At the top of the world the polar ice caps melt
and the polar bears go hungry,
as the penguins grow emaciated.

There is extinction in the smog we breathe.