WEBVTT

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Husband Fair, for Matthew.

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How good to lay with my
husband in our stone flat

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Though there are not enough
windows and too many doors

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We need another chair

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Smaller tables wobble
too much for books

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and won't hold
both of our plates

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But we eat, he and I

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And the fare is good

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I cook simply because
he doesn't know how

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Never learned, I don't mind

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The food is mine too

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He cooks, and we laugh

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How good to tell him
no when I feel like it

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And yes, and maybe

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And we laugh more

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So freeing, he and I

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So freely, though not carefree

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There are bill
collectors that threaten

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And the roof over our
heads, over our small bed

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was not one we owned

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We owned so little,
but we get by

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We go from here to
there to here on need

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And on whim, for
desire, for work

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How different from my line

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From that woman, not so distant

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Who never went anywhere
beyond a field of cotton balls

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Who lay with another's
husband, my grandfather,

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not so many fathers ago

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He who owned so very much

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And her pinned beneath him

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His arms of rope,
his body of winter,

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who laughed only when she cried

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His face, a heavy
drift over hers

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Her face, brown
as the Earth below

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Brown as my own.

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And--