A new poem by Michael Glover

My Quarter is More than Enough

The last to be patient was that concubine,
Flinging the foodstuffs, the plumped cushions,
And still demanding yet more wine
When enough is enough, I had said
As I tossed her back her garter.
I cherished that act
As I cherish all else in this quarter.

Plumped, yes, that’s how she was,
Yet she had moved me like no other,
With her pretty, pampering fingers
And that raucous, indomitable laughter,
Pulling at my sleeve so coyly,
Fluttering false lashes…
I knew her name until yesterday.
Then it flowed, ever onward, with the waters.

Much still to be done, oh yes,
The sorting of these papers
As the lackeys gawp on and on,
And I shift my eyes to the pavement
Where they strut and they preen so winningly,
The gorgeous girls of this quarter,
Much like she was when in her prime,
With that small dog yelping after.