Jealousy in the Pocono Mountains

I searched the wastebasket - it was wicker--
for wet condoms, while they went for a stroll.
I spent the night outside, never sicker.

What I found were empty tooth-torn wrappers.
The mountains where they walked were not grand at all
I searched the wastebasket - it was wicker.

Some peaks already pulverized by coal crackers,
pea-size bites piled to topple and haul.
I spent the night outside, too much liquor.

I had the evidence I needed to convict her:
his smug shit-eating grin, her soft accepting pall…
I fumbled deeper in the wastebasket - it was stickier

than I supposed.. Clearly he had fucked her
and she'd enjoyed. Prince and princess after the ball.
I spent the night outside; inside, it was him, inside her

and not just once. Didn't the bastard ever hear
that after ejaculation all male animals despair?
I searched the wastebasket - it was wicker--
then spent the night outside, never sicker.

Leonard Kress

Leonard Kress tries to divide his time equally among all the deadly sins, never allowing one single one to dominate.

If you've any comments on this poem, Leonard Kress would be pleased to hear from you.