The third man is a man not my husband, not my father.
I have a daughter who lies, I drink to her.
Red ribbon at my neck hides the cut, it will not solder.
I drink, I am tired, I am slow, I am fodder
for my daughter who grows into a difficult woman, I am sure.
The third man is a man not my husband, not my father.
He is a marauder as my daughter is a marauder.
She tells a lie I know to be pure.
Red ribbon at my neck hides the slit, it will not solder.
I drink alone as did my grandmother, my mother.
My daughter, my only, my love, she is sure
the third man is a man not my husband, not my father.
Is he at the door, will he bother us, will he bother
my daughter. For her loneliness, is this a cure.
Red ribbon at my neck hides the cut, it will not solder.
Let’s drink. My time has run out.
My daughter will tell the truth or she will not.
The third man is the man not my husband, not my father.
Red ribbon at my neck hides the slit, it will not solder.
Nicole Brooks is an MFA candidate at Butler University. She lives in Lafayette with her husband and daughter, and works in communications at Purdue University. Her poems have appeared in Minola Review, Flying Island, and in the New Rivers Press book “Visiting Bob: Poems Inspired by the Life and Work of Bob Dylan.”