Causative Agent

A Poem by Kherry McKay

A poem that asks about blame and love.

Causative Agent

After the kiss he couldn’t look
at a wedding ring on a woman’s hand
for a long time.

It was a short kiss in a Ford Escort
a dingy, s****y green Ford Escort.
It was quite dumb, the whole thing.
He hadn’t wanted to have an affair,
and no affair had happened.

But it was someone’s wife he had kissed,
and that someone came
looking for the kiss that was stolen
as if it were a pocketed wrong:
looked for what was taken off the lips of the one
to whom he’d said “I do.”

This man didn’t say “You’re forgiven.”
He wrangled his friends together,
smeared the other man’s name,
tried to cause as much hurt as possible

while looking for the causative agent.

And he persecuted his wife,
shamed her
told her she was worthless.

The other man often thought of the kiss,
years later; it
haunted him, seemed enchanting,
more and more innocent.

He’d felt the loneliness in the tears
that had come into their mouths.
He’d tasted the wife’s sorrow, depression
promises that hadn’t been kept to her.

The man knew sadness would be
with her as her husband
made love to her
said, “Thank God
we put that a*****e in his place.”