It’s a chore to try to decide what’s worth keeping, but once in awhile I go through my old work and throw a bunch away, put a smaller number of poems and notes in a folder called, Worth Another Look, which means I’m not ready to say keep, but not ready to discard. I’ll have to let a bit more time go by and go through the process again.
This snippet went into that folder:
The Other Woman
There’s always another woman.
It’s axiomatic.
She is always there.
She may not even exist.
Nonetheless…