After Seven Years

[John Galt]

She hears him lift another can,
pour the beer into a tall glass
as sure as her key slips into a lock.

She dislikes this plastic paradise
of comb and mirror, the thickening
scars, the courted sleep.

Arguments are all her mind recalls lately:
the fists, the remedy afterward. She does
remember an August marriage, his dark
good looks. And now sitting beside this bed
of snow, the room is a jail cell. Outside
her window, on a thin black telephone wire,
is a mourning dove with her mother's eyes.

Some thoughts after reading 71.

The use of a "season" would have grounded the imagery more for me rather than the use of "August."

The modifiers "thin black" before "telephone wire" seem superfluous.
On "the" instead of "on a" telephone wire, Maybe.? I would always say it that way if the wire was outside our window.
The word "is" starting the last line could go.

Thanks for the poem. JG