Tuesday, March 24, 2009


We used to be

a perfect match

like two parts

of the same clasp

on a string of imperfect pearls.

Since you left

I feel



and it was so



In anticipation of the fire and the flood--
of the hunger, and the younger ones
who bear his flesh and blood--
he rises, while the moon
is shaking loose her lucent tresses.
He showers. In the leaden
daylight-birthing hours, he dresses.

He mans the stands of saplings,
kissing bark and branch with axes.
He flexes, tenses, reaches, scatters sawdust,
then relaxes.
He chops, and stacks, and packs
and splits the sticks that feed the fires.

He teases, and appeases,
convinces and conspires
with the snakes and snails and spices
and the sugars that he sires.

If it seems he tackles far more
than the job description calls for,
he also misses, kisses, listens to
the girl he daily falls for.

The care and keeping of a household,
husbanded and grounded,
is mastered by the master
of the castle.

I'm astounded!

swestenskow for her husband on the night of his trial by liars

*hus-ban-dree:Funtion: noun, Date: 14th Century (archaic): the care of a household