There are women who say:
My husband, if you want to fish, fish,
but clean the fish.
I am not. I wake up at any time of the night,
I help scale, open, shred and salt.
It's so nice, just us alone in the kitchen,
from time to time the elbows bump,
he says things like "this was hard"
“He silvered in the air giving french toast”
and he makes the gesture with his hand. The silence when we first met
runs through the kitchen like a deep river.
Finally, the fish on the platter,
Let's go to sleep.
Silver things pop:
we are groom and bride.
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Comments (1)
This is what marriage is about. Amazing poem!