Punch

Mornings he is full of beans,
eats egg and porridge for breakfast,
sings a song, brushes off her jealousy,
fools around with the cat,

so that the postman who calls,
intrigued and thinking bliss,
steps inside. Pleased as Punch
he makes him laugh.

She hates his slapstick humour,
asks him to kill his devil.
He struts. In his hooked shadow
he shows his crooked self.

He wavers between dreams
of guilt and atonement. He pleads
with her, he’ll change, asks for
a second chance, to forgive him.

Next day himself again, boisterous
as ever, full of swagger and bounce
he’s leaving for the day. He’s planning
betrayal again. Again and again.

That's the way he does it.