A honeymoon. How often does one happen according to the dreams that preceded it? In this poem, Wesley McNair, a poet from Maine, describes a first night of marriage in a tawdry place. But all’s well that ends well.
For My Wife
How were we to know, leaving your two kids
For My Wife by Wesley McNair : American Life in Poetry #255 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
written byTed Kooser
© Ted Kooser
