The Marionette's Revenge

She twiddled fingers and rasped her voice to rid his brain of thought of choice.

Her throat, the womb that knit her lies; amniocentesis to drain disguise--

Dipping line, downward spin-- She made him careless, drowned in gin.

Still, he hid the wedding ring, a tiny but portentous thing

And twice his wife awoke to dread-- rumpled sheets and lonely bed.

She watched her husband come home to find no suspicion, and she was blind.

So he was soothed, clean getaway; free to lie another day.

But doting wife, ever wary, an actress to the man she married,

Investigated, elated when all signs converged at Vixen's den. ~ She armed herself with kitchen knife and knocked upon the Devil's door.

Handle turned, door opened wide, and Adult'ress thrust down to the floor.

Blade at throat, high heels flew punctured skin and lines of red

Snarls and gasps-- a shotgun blew-- the husband stood, the Vixen dead.

And in the space where it did cling, was tiny, golden wedding ring.