Until
She flung the ring toward the center,
where it is claimed for all eternity
by the bracken waters of
Bayou Teche.
Twenty years she’d worn the
burden
of marriage promise and
betrayal,
a promise she kept sacrosanct.
How many lovers had her
promised
wooed through the fat and
lean years.
How many had she repelled,
turning blind eye and deaf
ear,
choosing honor over disgrace—
until the day she trusted
another,
breaking free the yoke of
fidelity,
enduring the bitterness of guilt—
until the day she didn’t.
Dixon Hearne
Dixon
Hearne writes in the American South. He is the author of seven books of poetry
and fiction. His work has been twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize, as well
as the PEN/Hemingway and PEN/Faulkner awards. His latest book is Plainspeak:
New and Selected Poems. Other poetry appears in Poetry South, Tulane Review, Big
Muddy, New Plains Review, Weber: The Contemporary West, various anthologies, and
elsewhere. He is currently working on a new poetry collection. www.dixonhearne.com
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Poetry