Bios

I had a poem published in a magazine
that happened to be seen by my missus.
She’s now my in-residence poetry critic
and scolds me freely without punctuation,
enjambment or pauses, because I used the real name
of our daughter’s teacher in the poem.
It’s very unprofessional, she moans –
since when was I a professional poet?

I said sorry for my error, but she’d not finished.
Why on Earth does your bio distinguish
between our birth and our adopted children?
Ray Miller has eight kids, four bios, four non-bios.
It sounds like they are second class citizens
or are you just waving the flag of virtue?
Not waving, but drowning, my darling one,
an allusion I know she won’t pick up on.

I didn’t want readers to think I was Catholic
or careless, the adopted are intended
to recompense for the others. Anyway,
I don’t use that bio any longer –
as I said it I wished I’d bitten my tongue off.
For of course, she wanted to view the successor
which states, I’m a Socialist, Aston Villa supporter
and faithful husband. Life has been a disappointment.

It was funny at one time, but I’m laughing less –
no Socialism, no Football success, and now no sex.