Whose faith awaits, her fidelity!
Yet, how’s it to be, a poker chip
Be spent, in the stake of duality
My wife, his whore; love’s brinkmanship!

How’s it to smell, his sweat, on her skin
Like leavings served, on a lavish tray
Whilst she brazens out, her cherished sin
I wear her shame, in our love’s cabaret!

“What you made of me, manhood’s travesty
How I tread naked, in insolent streets!”
““Ain’t you a dud, so unseemly?
Who counts the times, his woman cheats”!

How riotous, if not piteous, the least
A long-dead man’s, obituary!
The relic, of a woman’s feast
A Cuckold and his Cuckoldry!

© 2017 Vikas Chandra