The Authors Spouse
A poem
by Eileen Slovak
Do you imagine a literal life,
where you might be a writer’s wife?
What would your novel existence be,
lingering in the vast shadow of he?
When he railed and ranted at the world,
would not your sales too, be unfurled?
While he reposed in fanfare glow,
could envy seek to find you, lying low?
Whose wounded heart dare curse unkind,
the sound tornado in a swirling mind?
Linked to the muse no other can see,
while fixed in reality you’ll be,
Think gentle reader how courtships end,
mystery unraveled, romance paper-thinned.
Is ‘authors spouse’ title enough for you?
when the story has been scripted through.
Eileen Slovak 
Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
IS THIS HOW MY MISSUS FEELS?????
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I don’t know, Jon? Maybe you should ask her or better yet bring her flowers, :). I wrote this while thinking about the film “Sylvia” about Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath. We all know how it ended, but it was like a train wreck, I couldn’t stop watching. Why would any two writers ever marry? Anyway it made me feel guilty about how selfish we writers tend to be and how difficult it must be to be married to one of us. The fact that I wrote it about a male writer probably stemmed from more guilt, lol. I abandoned poetry long ago because I tend toward the morose and I’d rather rant about politics or laugh! Thanks for the reblog. I think it was my first, :).
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Thank you for writing thiss
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Thank you for reading it Sonia, happy Sunday.
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