After a string of failed romances and intensely remarked sexual
adventures she'd finally married.
The husband was a very formal man, handsome, elegant ... perhaps
to my taste too much so;
I sensed too much commitment in him to a life entailing ...
handsomeness and elegance, I suppose,
but he was generous with her and even their frequent arguments
had a manageable vehemence.
She smiled often in those days, but behind her face an edge
of animation seemed nailed shut.
You wouldn't really worry for her, by now you knew she'd be
all right, but there were moments
when for no reason you could put your finger on you'd feel
something in yourself too rigidly attentive:
it was as though some soft herd-alarm, a warning signal from
the species, had been permanently tripped.
Source: Collected Poems