Author: Lisa Marie

Silence

The silence crouches behind my personality,
Stalking it.
Silence is a ghoulish hunter,
Seeking to drink the stark clarity of my water
And eat the bright blue impulses of my
Ever wakeful mind.
What stupid flowers grow by the river,
Not knowing a flood is coming to submerge them
In a chocolate brown night.
But if they knew,
What would the difference be?
I slow down,
Cover my ears.

Serving My Husband

Women are supposed to love and serve their husbands. Husbands are supposed  to serve their wives as well, but that is not the topic of this post.

How do you serve your husband? Do you get up to get him a drink? Do you serve him food? Many women seem to be uncomfortable with this idea but I would argue that doing these things is a good. It is probably something I need to do more often in my own marriage. That’s not to say that your husband can’t ever get up and get you a drink, but ladies, when did we become so turned off by the idea of serving our men?

Yesterday I gave up. Craig had had a bag that he brought home from the ship that had been sitting in the laundry room in front of the dryer for weeks.   I had been waiting for him to take the time to organize his stuff and put away the bag. But I just gave up and took the bag out of the laundry room and put away as much of his stuff as I knew how to put away and put the bag in an inconspicuous place out of the way. And it actually felt good. My husband is a very busy man and he does a lot. This was one less thing for him to have to do. Now I’m not great at organizing so the stuff that I didn’t know what to do with and left in the bag he’ll have to address eventually, but I put away everything in the bag and sorted out the trash to the best of my ability and now I don’t have to bother him about the laundry room. And our laundry room looks nicer.

When Craig cuts the grass, one of the ways in which he serves me and our family, I always go out and bring him a glass of ice water. I think this is important. Yes he could walk back into the house and get himself a glass of water but as his wife I want to get one for him.

I wash my husband’s laundry, but do I put it away for him? Most of the time the answer is no. And while I don’t think that I should have to put it away for him since I am already washing it for him, wouldn’t it be nice if I put it away out of love sometimes?

What am I overlooking? How can I serve my husband better? Is there anything he doesn’t like doing that I can take over instead? Can I do housework in such a way as to serve and honor my husband? What do you do to serve your husband?

Dark House

Cruddy smells flake off the house and I know I shouldn’t be here.

No one has in faithless year after faithless year.

Knock it off.

I see you filching my backup plans from my purse.

God I wear blue well.

My soul is transparent like the cleanest lake.

 

I am without my numbers and shapes,

sewn from cotton fields.

I’m a doll you can love, hate, dissipate

Scifi Poem

Wrap me in rain,

give me cool comfort like the

swirling of air from a fan over my legs

at bedtime so noxious and sanctimonious.

What strange aliens wait in the field behind the house,

gaudy in their multitudinous space ships?

Give me sweet succor and lay me down

in the pumpkin patch.

Let me grow vines to root me in place.

There is no sense in running.

And when the aliens come,

let their teeth already be sharpened,

their hands quick.